


Dust to Dust

by Meraad



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Blood, Death, F/M, Miscarriage, Plot With Porn, Porn With Plot, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Smut, so begins the inquisition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:24:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 35,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10071362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meraad/pseuds/Meraad
Summary: Thom Rainier is a man on the run but finding a half-dead Qunari woman ends up stalling his plans to flee.Years later, Anahera finds herself at the center of the Inquisition, The Herald of Andraste.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have a problem and his name is Blackwall. 
> 
> Anahera has been floating around in my head for months, pestering me, demanding her story be written, but it took a while to figure out some of the greater kinks.

 

 

* * *

_I can’t pull you closer than this_  
_It’s just you and the moon on my skin_  
_Oh, who says it ever has to end_  
_Oh, don’t say that it’s over_  
_Oh, no say it ain’t so_

_Let’s let the stars watch_  
_Let them stare_  
_Let the wind eavesdrop_  
_I don’t care_  
_For all that we’ve got, don’t let go_

* * *

 

 

Thom Rainier's footsteps were cautious as he approached the cabin. The door was thrown wide open, the nearby barn was a total loss to fire and he wondered how long it would take for the fire to jump to the house. Stepping inside, the immediate stench of blood and death made him gag. Selfish, he thought, to rifle through their belongings. To see what he could scavenge. But they were dead, whoever the poor souls were, and he wasn't. Yet.

Though he deserved to be. Deserter. Murderer. Failure. His eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room and he saw them. Two large bodies on the floor. One body was missing his head, he assumed it was male, judging from the size. The others throat was slit. Qunari? He wondered. Long hair, soaked with blood, tangled around horns. Eyes clenched shut tight, he turned his face away, drew in a deep breath which he regretted instantly. Then he gave himself a shake. Nothing he could do. He hadn't murdered them.

Sticking to the edges of the room, he spotted a desk and quickly began to rummage through it. Pushing one of the drawers shut, a candle sitting too close to the edge fell, the metal holder rattled loudly in the absolute silence. Thom waited, immobile, though he didn't know what he was waiting for.

Then he heard a sound. A soft, rattling breath. He whirled around to face the door but saw nothing. Slowly, he turned to look at the bodies on the floor, the woman's eyes were open, staring right at him.

“You're not-” she coughed, winced. “Bandit? Thief?” Thom didn't know what to say, seconds ticked by and he just stared at her. She slid her arm along the floor, leaving a smear of blood behind. “By the bed, loose floorboard.”

Thom walked around the edge of the room, into the small bedroom. The bed was rumpled as if someone had been sitting on it, lounging. Or maybe the two had been sleeping.

He found the floorboard, lifted it, and inside he found a wooden box. Unsure why, he carried the box back to the woman, the Qunari. As Thom grew closer he wondered if she was still alive and if she were, how? There was an obvious cut across her throat, and the blood, there was so much of it. Her eyes were fixed, staring and he thought for sure that she'd passed in the minutes he'd been gone, but as he stepped closer, she blinked and held her hand out.

Crouching down beside her, he set the box beside her hand. “Open it,” she rasped. Thom pushed back the lid and watched her reach inside, fumble around several objects before tipping the box over. The contents spilled. Half a dozen objects that he only saw as dark shapes. She pushed one toward him, a leather pouch, then curled her fingers around a necklace and dragged it toward her chest. “Take it,” she told him, her eyes drooping.

Thom picked up the pouch, cautiously poured the contents into his hand. Coins. A lot of gold coins. His eyes flew back to her face, she met his stare, then her eyes slid shut.

Thom didn't know what possessed him next. He dragged one of the few healing potions he had from his bag and forced her into a half sitting position, her back against his side, and carefully poured the tonic into her mouth. She swallowed, her eyes fluttering open, full of confusion as they locked on his. Thom laid her back down once the potion was gone and went into the small kitchen and found a towel that he came back and wrapped around the gash on her throat. He could see it more clearly now, a long cut from just below her ear, along her jaw, and up over the edge of her chin.

He struggled to carry her outside and onto the horse he'd stolen. Her being half unconscious didn't help him at all. Thom waited a few minutes, watched as the fire spread from the barn and caught the thatched roof of the house. Then he mounted the horse behind her, was grateful for the sturdy beast, and wrapped his arms around her as he took a slow pace away from the burning house.

Hours later he finally came upon an obviously abandoned and run down cabin. Half the roof was missing, but they were miles from civilization. After dragging the woman inside and laying her on the bed he'd made from the furs and blankets he'd found in a solid wooden chest of drawers. He built a fire and boiled some water to tend to her wound. It was nasty but healing.

Still, Thom had no idea why he'd saved her and was currently nursing her back to life. He was a fugitive. He needed to get as far away as he could. “Why?” she rasped as he applied a salve to her jaw.

“I don't know,” he told her honestly. “What's your name?”

“Anahera, yours?”

“Thom.” He bandaged the wound, then helped her to sit up so she could sip the broth he'd made.

 

Anahera felt better than she had in weeks. This soldier, Thom, he'd saved her and she didn't know why. He was a human, and for some reason, he'd come to her rescue. She looked to where he sat in the straight back chair next to the fire. His head was bowed and she thought he might be sleeping. Silently, she got to her feet and padded barefoot across the small room.

Thom blinked several times as she sunk down to her knees in front of him. “Anahera?” He reached up to rub a hand over his face and was convinced he was still dreaming when she nudged his knees apart and brought her hand up to the ties of his trousers. “What are you doing?”

“I have no other way to thank you, to repay you, for saving my life,” she told him, her voice a quiet rasp.

“No,” he said shaking his head. He caught her hands, but she wouldn't be deterred. “You do not need-” his words cut off when her hand dipped inside and soft fingers curled around his already half hard cock.

“I have nothing else to give you,” she told him and then he watched as she leaned in and ran the tip of her tongue over the head of his erection.

It was wrong, he thought, allowing this, but her mouth was so hot, so wet. He groaned. “What of your husband? Mate?” What would be the proper word? He knew nothing of Qunari.

“Kaaras was not my mate,” she murmured, took him deep into her mouth, his cock bumped against the back of her throat and Thom's eyes crossed when he felt her swallow. Anahera lifted her head, pumped her hand slowly along his saliva slick length. “I was Saarebas. Tal-Vashoth attacked, Aravaarad was killed. Kaaras took my control rod. Released me from my collar.” Absently, she brought her free hand up to touch the small scars along her lips that dotted the edges of her lips.

“Is this how you thanked him?”

“It is not unpleasant,” she said, running her tongue along the underside of his cock before wrapping her lips around him and sucking.

His head fell back, he wanted to tell her no again, he was a bastard, but he already knew that. Maker take him, he'd rot for all his sins, what was one more? She took her time, licking, sucking, working Thom up slowly and steadily. “For the love of the Maker, Ana,” he choked out. “Please.” She lifted her head and he caught her gaze, was it surprise that he saw in her eyes? Then his mind knew only one thing as she wrapped her lips around him and began to stroke him with a tight fist. “Ana,” he groaned, voice loud in the quiet room, as he came.

Anahera swallowed, tongue lapping up every drop of his seed, leaving him all but trembling when she was done. Thom reached out, caught the back of her head and covered her mouth with his. She jerked slightly when his tongue thrust into her mouth, but she didn't resist, she rubbed her tongue against his, her hands curling into fists on his thighs.

He lifted his mouth from hers, stared down at her, pupils were blown wide. “On the bed,” he jerked his head toward the pile of furs. Her eyes flicked down to his cock, which was definitely not up for another round yet. “You can say no,” he told her. “I don't expect anything from you. You can say no at any time and I'll stop.”

Her head tilted slowly as she contemplated. “You don't want to have sex with me?”

Thom's chuckle was low and he shook his head. “No, I didn't say that. I do, but if you don't want this-” Anahera pushed up to her feet and he watched with hooded eyes as she unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall from her shoulders, revealing full breasts, and a scattering of scars over her belly and back. Then she pushed the skirt off her hips and she was unashamedly naked before him.

“I have never been with a human,” she said, then walked over to the bed of furs. “How would you like me?”

Barely able to contain his groan, Thom got to his feet and followed. “On your back,” he said, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. Anahera stretched out on her back, then adjusted the blankets for the spiral of her horns. Her dark gray skin was made even darker by the dimly lit corner of the room, hair the color of embers, somewhere between orange and red. Thom shed his trousers and then sunk down to his knees between Anahera's thighs.

He slid his hands over her knees and pushed her legs farther apart, his eyes flicking between her face, and the sight of her sex spread for him. Thom shifted back, then leaned down. “What are you-” she started but cut off with a startled gasp as he ran his tongue from base to tip of her opening. He lifted his head, saw her wide eyes staring at him, chest heaving. “Again,” she managed out, and Thom obliged. He explored her with lips, tongue, and fingers, learning what made her gasp and pant and shudder.

Finally, Thom eased up the length of her body, claimed her lips in a hard kiss. When he lifted his head her brow was furrowed and she licked her lips. “You taste of me,” she murmured, then cupped the back of his head and tugged him down into another kiss. He groaned into her mouth and rocked his hips, his cock now more than ready, rubbing over her slick pussy.

Anahera reached down between them, her fingers curling around his cock. “I want to feel you, inside of me.”

Thom groaned, shifted his hips back and then slowly began pushing into her. Her hands came up to rest on his sides and Thom curled his hands into the blankets beside her head as he began to make slow, measured thrusts. He watched her face, the way she stared up at him, lips parting, neck arching, exposing the scar.

Guilt hit Thom hard, and his next thrust was rougher than he'd intended. Anahera gasped, fingers digging into his sides. She curled one leg over his hip, tilting her pelvis up and his next thrust went even deeper. She met him thrust for thrust, back arching, fingers gripping, slipping on sweat soaked skin. Thom knew his end was coming, fast and hard, he reached back and caught one of her hands, as much as he enjoyed the feel of her nails in his flesh, he wanted to feel her come around him. He dragged her hand between their bodies, fingers sliding over her clit. “Touch yourself for me,” he groaned and after a moment's hesitation, she began to stroke her fingertip against herself. Her fingers slid down, stroking along his length as he thrust inside of her before she shifted her hand back up.

Her breathing grew more and more erratic and Thom's thrusts drove into her. The sound she made was quiet, a cutoff cry of breath locking in her throat, but he felt her whole body tense against his, inner walls clenching around his cock, and Thom wanted nothing more than to drive deeper and deeper. He rose up onto his knees, gripped her hips, fucked her harder, faster. She arched, her thighs gripping tight at his waist and she felt even slicker than before. He pushed deep, held himself there, as he came, pouring himself into her.

Panting, Thom sunk down onto the bed beside her and stared up at the hastily patched ceiling. He drew his arm up and covered his face, guilt, and embarrassment vying inside of him. She lay quiet beside him, the only sounds in the room were their rasping breathing and the quiet crackle of the fire in the hearth. “I'm sorry,” he finally said and pushed himself up into a sit. He reached for his trousers.

“Why?” Anahera asked, her voice rougher than usual. “Did something go wrong?”

He glanced over his shoulder at her, saw the consternation on her face. “I shouldn't have- Maker's Balls.” He shook his head and stood up, yanking his pants up. Thom stormed across the room to the fire.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Whirling around he looked at her, sitting in the center of the furs. She'd dragged one of the furs up over one shoulder and Thom was simply stunned. Her lips were swollen and red, her hair an even bigger tangled mess around her horns. He felt like an idiot for utterly neglecting her breasts. He wanted nothing more than to go back and give them proper attention. “No,” he said, both in response to her question and to himself. “I was wrong. I shouldn't have. I did not save you so that you would repay me with a quick fuck on the floor.”

Anahera got to her feet, that damned fur still draped halfway around her, and crossed toward him. “Did you enjoy it?”

Thom gave her a look. “You know that I did.”

She inclined her head. “As did I,” she stopped in front of him and he had to tip his head back to meet her eyes. But it did put him at the perfect height, if he just leaned forward he could wrap his lips around one of those taught nipples. “How is that wrong?”

“I took advantage,” he insisted, hands clenched tight at his sides to keep himself from reaching out for her. “Just because you had that arrangement with your last lover-”

“Lover?” she echoed the word. “Will you be my lover?”

He groaned. “Ana.” He shook his head. “You don't know what you're asking. This isn't,” he couldn't help himself, he reached out, stroked his thumb along the outside curve of her breast. “I need to leave, to go.”

Anahera arched into his touch, until he cupped her breast, calloused fingers stroking delicate skin. “Go where?”

“Away,” he said, stepping into her, he slid his arm around her waist, and brushed a kiss over the top of her breast, then nuzzled the fur aside so he could flick his tongue over her other nipple. “I cannot stay here, with you.”

“Then be my lover for tonight,” she murmured, slipping a hand into his hair. Thom tilted his head back and she ducked her head down to claim his lips in a fierce kiss.

The night turned to days, days to weeks. Thom knew he couldn't stay. She was stronger now, healed. She slept, curled beside him on the bed of furs, skin still flushed from their lovemaking. Leaning down he brushed his lips against her temple before tugging one of the furs more securely around her. “I am sorry,” he whispered before getting to his feet and silently slipping out of the cabin, leaving everything behind.

Anahera had waited for him to return. She knew he was gone when she'd woken in the early morning hours and the space beside her was long cold. But still, she waited. Waited until she couldn't wait any longer. She'd gathered the pouch of coins, the bag that contained a healing potion and a few small rations of food. The fur was harder to manage, but she packed it into a leather bag and strapped it to the horse before she too left the cabin in search of what she didn't know. But she hoped wherever Thom had gone, that he was safe.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

* * *

_I don’t want to talk right now_  
_I just want your arms wrapped around_  
_Me in this moment_  
_Before it runs out_

* * *

 

Thom was sitting at the bar, head ducked low over his ale when the door opened. A group of Qunari walked in, the nod one of them shared with the bartender told that they were at least somewhat regular. He was just about to duck his head again when he saw her. Fiery hair in a thick braid down her back. She was arguing with one of the men. Wild hand gestures from both, until he glared, slapped a coin on the table in front of her then stood up and headed for the bar. Anahera grinned, picked up the coin and tucked it into her pocket.

It had been seven months since he'd last seen her. Seven months since he left her alone in that run-down cabin. Thom had thought of her often, wondered what had become of her. Where she was and if she was okay. Now, as he sat in the back corner of the bar, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. The group of Qunari she sat with were rowdy and loud, speaking in a language he didn't understand. She was quiet, though, nursing the drink the one she'd been arguing with had gotten her.

He wasn't sure what he should do. Finish his ale and leave? Try to wait them out? Would she even remember him? By the Maker, he still had no idea why he'd saved her. She would have died in that house, either from bleeding out or when it caught fire. Anahera started to turn her face in his direction, so Thom ducked his head quickly, waited for a few beats then peeked up and found her staring straight at him. Gaze met and held for long moments. Then she tossed back the rest of her drink, stood up and walked toward him. She didn't acknowledge him but leaned against the bar next to where he sat and dropped coins on the table. “Room upstairs?”

The barkeep grunted and grabbed a key that hung on the wall behind him. He tossed it on the bar in front of Anahera. She picked it up, cast Thom a glance and the sauntered toward the stairs. A couple of the Qunari glanced at her as she headed up the stairs. Thom waited. Waited. Then he didn't know what he was waiting for. He drained his ale and followed.

He caught the curious glances of her companions as he made his way, far less seductively, up the stairs. All the doors were closed, save for one, open just a crack with a soft glow seeping out from under the door. Thom crossed to it and brought up his hand to slowly push it open. Anahera stood in the center of the room, her back to him, stripped naked, fingers working to release her hair from her braid. Stepping into the room he took in her skin in the dim glow of the candlelight. New scars. Ones he hadn't traced with his lips. He kicked the door shut behind him and stepped up behind her.

His hands skimmed over her hips, up her sides as he pressed a kiss against the back of her shoulder. “Lover,” she murmured softly, then turned in his arms and brushed her mouth over his. She tasted of whiskey and fruit. Thom reached up, tangled a hand in her hair and stroked his tongue against hers as they made their way to the bed.

Her hands slid beneath his tunic, then tugged it over his head, before she quickly helped him strip from his pants. She pushed him onto his back on the bed and straddled his hips. Her hands braced on either side of his head she leaned down and brushed a kiss over his jaw, feeling the stubble there, course and prickly against her lips. Thom traced his fingers over a scar on her bicep. “You have new scars,” he commented, lifting his head to brush his lips over it.

“So do you,” she said, touched the scar on his shoulder. Anahera shifted her hips back, felt his length, thick and hard against her core.

Thom's hands wandered over her thighs, hips and up her sides to cup her breasts. She arched into his touch, heard him groan as her heat slid along his cock again. “Ana,” he grunted, then wrapped his lips around one nipple while his fingers toyed with the other. She shifted her hips again, lining his length up with her center before impaling herself on him. She cried out when his teeth closed gently on her nipple at the same moment.

“Thom,” her voice came out a breathless gasp. She reared up, despite Thom's protest, and arched her back. One hand slid behind her on the bed to support her weight as she began to slowly roll her hips against his.

Thom lay back, enjoying the view. Her hair fell down her arched back as she began to ride him. A view he knew he'd never tire of. Ample breasts swaying as she rocked, the way her pussy spread around his dick, so slick and hot. He let his hand slide up her inner thigh, fingers dipping into her folds to find her clit. She jerked at the light touch, hips slamming down hard against his, he felt her clench around him. He wanted to watch her come apart again and again. Taste her. Fuck her. Hear her cries of pleasure.

Her pace began to quicken, hips rocking faster. Thom was so caught up in watching her, that he was blindsided by his own release. He bucked, coming hard, his fingers digging into her hips as he held her tight against him. Anahera cried out quietly, but it wasn't in pleasure, it was frustration. “Ana,” Thom murmured, tugging her down and rolling her onto her back. She started to protest, but then Thom slid three fingers inside of her as his half-hard cock slid free. His thumb found her clit and he pressed a kiss to one breast, then the other.

She arched her back and one hand tangled in Thom's hair. Anahera's legs fell open, Thom glanced down, his fingers coated in her juices and his seed. He couldn't deny that he liked the sight of it. He pushed his fingers deeper, thrust them faster, watched her arch, push her hips up to meet his hand. Anahera's thighs began to tremble, he felt the clenching of her inner muscles around his wet fingers. “That's it,” he murmured. “Come for me,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss against her stomach, then lower. He licked over her clit and her hips jerked. Then Thom wrapped his lips around her clit and stroked it mercilessly with the tip of his tongue.

“Thom!” Her hand tightened in his hair, her thighs quaked and back arched.

He slowly moved back up her body, peppering kisses over her thighs, belly, and chest as she lay there struggling to suck in a breath. Thom slid his fingers from her pussy but left his hand cupping her, feeling their combined fluids oozing from her opening.

Anahera blinked up at him, pleasure still a riot in her veins. She met his gaze and slid her hand down to cover his hand between her legs, then she dragged it up and wrapped her lips around one digit. She felt the groan rumble in his chest as she licked his fingers clean, then that had was gripping her hip as he pressed his mouth to hers in a demanding kiss. Sucking her tongue into his mouth.

Later, as the fire burned low, Anahera lay on the bed on her stomach while Thom traced scars, new and old with his lips. Not an inch of her was left unexplored, before he finally settled between her legs and brought her to a gasping, pleading, orgasm. After, Thom stretched out beside her. She awoke to the sound of a quick, hard knock on the door. _Time to go,_ she thought. Anahera slid silently from the bed and gathered her clothes and braided her hair. Thom was sprawled on the bed, snoring softly. She debated on waking him, but in the end, she ducked her head down to press a kiss against his jaw before silently slipping from the room.

Thom knew when he woke up to an empty bed he had no right to be angry. He had done the very same thing to her, slipping off in the dead of night without a word. It was sex. A quick fuck because for some reason they were attracted to each other. Though he didn't know what she saw in him. He was worthless. A traitor, a coward.

 

Only a few weeks passed before Anahera walked into that bar again, this time without the rest of the Valo-Kas mercenaries and there he was. Sitting on the same stool, but looking far older than he had just a few weeks earlier. She wondered what he'd been doing since their time at that cabin. Wondered if he'd just been getting himself blind drunk. “Thom,” she said softly as she stepped up side him.

He looked up, eyes darkening. Anahera tossed the coin on the bar, and the barkeep tossed her the key. Thom followed her up the stairs and she could practically feel his eyes boring into her. The moment they were in the room he had her pinned to the door, his mouth bruising against hers. She allowed it, hooked one leg around his waist, rocked her core against the bulge in his trousers.

Thom yanked at the front of his pants, shoved the full skirt up around her waist and drove into her hard and fast. Their height difference made it awkward, and after a few clumsy thrusts, he pulled out of her. “On the bed,” he grunted. “On your knees.”

Anahera glided across the room, glanced over her shoulder at him before climbing onto the bed. A heartbeat later he was on the bed behind her, cursing as he shoved at the fabric of her skirt, and then he was plunging deep inside of her again. The force of his thrusts had her dropping down onto her elbows and pressing her forehead against the bed. The only sounds in the room were their harsh breaths and the bed banging against the wall with each drive of his hips against hers.

Thom found her clit with his fingers, knew he was being rough, but she hadn't objected. Her back arched and he ached for her bare skin, for her long hair loose and tangled around her face. He slid his hand that had been gripping her hip into her braid, wrapped it around his fist. Anahera turned her face towards him, her head still on the bed, but she watched him as he pounded into her. Then he felt her hand join his between her legs and he watched her eyes slip shut, lips part and felt her tighten around him.

He followed her over the edge seconds later, his hips still rocking, enjoying the feel of her trembling form. “Maker,” he rasped, bending his body over her back, he pressed his forehead against the back of her shoulder and shuddered. “Ana,” he whispered, felt her shift beneath him. The next thing he knew, he was sprawled out against her chest, her arms around him, their legs tangled together. He pressed his face against her throat, his arms wrapping around her, holding on tight.

Thom woke up alone. The bed empty. He refused to open his eyes. Willed it all to just end. What was he doing? He'd spent far too much time spending what little coin he had on drink, waiting for this woman to reappear. He needed to leave and never come back, but even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew he wouldn't. He heard the sound of water sloshing and jerked his head up.

“Lover.” It took a minute for his alcohol-hazed brain to figure out what he was seeing. A large copper tub sat in front of the fire, and inside of it, Anahera. Naked and glorious. “Join me?” she asked, lifting a hand from the water and holding it out to him.

He didn't need to be asked twice. He stood, stripped, and crossed over to her. Water spilled over the edge as he climbed in and let Ana tug his back against her chest. She nuzzled his throat and slid her arms around him. Thom slid his hands over her forearms and lifted one of her hands to his mouth, where he placed a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist. They stayed there in that tub for a long time, the water never going cold thanks to Anahera's magic.

When they finally emerged from the tub, Thom worshiped her body, wrung a handful of orgasms from Ana, until she was a disheveled mess on the tangle of sheets. After Anahera caught her breath, she returned the favor.

Morning came sharp and early, they dressed silently and parted with the sweetest kiss Thom had ever experienced. Whatever this was between them, it had to end. Thom knew that. He knew that he needed to leave, or risk being discovered. Would the fleeting moments with Anahera be worth death? He banished the thought. He had no future, especially not with her. So he vowed to never return to that bar again.

 

Three months later, Thom broke his silent vow. He stepped into the bar and was surprised to see Ana sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of amber colored liquor. Her eyes met his and he knew this was it. For both of them. This time Thom was the one to toss money on the bar in exchange for a key to one of the upstairs rooms.

Anahera held Thom's hand as they made their way up the stairs and into the room. He stoked the fire and then he watched as Ana tugged a fur from the satchel she'd carried. He stared in awe as she spread it on the floor in front of the fireplace. _It wasn't,_ he thought. _Couldn't be._ She unbuttoned her shirt, let it pool on the floor around her feet with her skirt, then she sunk down to her knees in the center of the fur. “One last night, lover?”

Thom tugged his shirt over his head, sunk to his knees in front of her. “One last night,” he echoed and kissed her. This would be the last time, no going back. He'd met a Grey Warden, Blackwall was his name. Thom would do something with what was left of his life. He'd do better. And he would take the memories of her to keep him warm until the end.


	3. Chapter 3

Anahera Kouslit Adaar bore the scars of her past on her mind, her body, and her soul. Now she sat, a short distance from camp with a mark on her hand that had thrust her into the spotlight and left her responsible for the entirety of the world. The mark stung, felt like needles tingling up her arm. Sometimes it was worse than others. But mostly she'd begun to get used to it and it was no worse than most pains she'd endured in the past.

There was a group of children playing not far off and she could see them from her perch on the grass above the meadow. There was a child, smaller than the others, that looked as if she wanted to join, but the others kept running away from her. Ana's heart went out to the girl with tangled black hair, all too familiar with what it was like to be the outcast. 

The sound of footsteps rustling in the grass caught her attention and she glanced over at Varric as he came to drop down a few feet from her. She liked him and his stories and the fact that he seemed to really enjoy pushing Cassandra's buttons. She inclined her head toward him and he returned the gesture without a word. Several times, over the course of their journey so far, she and Varric had enjoyed an evening in silence. 

Often conversations with Solas lead to his thoughts on the Fade and Spirits, which she found endlessly fascinating, but though she was a mage, she'd all but stopped using her magic, having learned how to wield dual blades. Cassandra was too hard on herself, Anahera thought, and conversations with her resulted in Cassandra attempting to take on responsibility for everything. 

Ana wondered as she focused back on the group of children if she'd be able to help Cassandra lighten up, at least a little. Though maybe Ana wasn't one to judge. Her face drew into a frown as she looked at the kids. The little girl with the long black hair was gone. A sudden pang in her chest had her bringing her hand up to rub at her sternum. She was just a little girl, how could children be so mean? 

Light footsteps had her turning her head to the path once again. There was the little girl, handfuls of flowers clutched in her arms. Without a word, the girl walked over, dropped the flowers beside Ana and then sat down beside them. Anahera watched curiously as she began to pick up the flowers and with tiny fingers, weave them together. Quiet minutes passed, the only sound was the girl occasionally humming a little tune, before finally, she stood up, grinning and dropped a wreath of flowers on Ana's head. 

“I'm Issa,” the little girl said and sat back down, weaving more flowers. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Issa. I'm Anahera and this is Varric.” The little girl glanced over at the dwarf, gave him a gap-toothed grin and went back to her work. Within minutes she had another crown and stood to place it on Varric's head. He looked about to protest, but instead, dipped his head toward Issa to allow her to put it on him.

They sat there for a while, Issa crafting herself a crown of flowers before she showed Anahera how to weave them together. They were nearly out of flowers when the shout came. “Issa!” The little girl jerked her head up, eyes wide and then frantically shook her head at Ana before she jumped to her feet, the flowers scattering. “Where are you, you little knife-eared brat?” A stout woman appeared, her face twisted in disgust. “Ungrateful little wretch!” 

The slap had Anahera launching up to her feet in an instant, towering over the woman as she stood behind the little girl. The woman looked startled for a moment, but then she sneered. “What are you looking at?” The woman grabbed Issa's arm, jerked it hard, causing the little girl to cry out. “Stupid little knife-ear. I told you to stay and watch the hearth. Keep the fire burning.” 

“Get your hand off her,” Anahera spoke slowly and softly. 

“Go back to your own kind, stupid ox,” the woman spat, sticking her hands on her hips, not looking remotely intimidated. But she'd let go of Issa, who immediately darted around Anahera and gripped her pant leg. 

A slow, malevolent, smile spread across Ana's face. “You mean the Tal-Vashoth. The heathens, murderers, renegades of the Qun? Or do you mean I should go back to my mercenary group?” Finally, the woman began to realize she might not be able to intimidate Ana. “Who is this little girl to you?” Anahera kept her voice low and cocked her head to the side.

“A worthless little brat,” she curled her lip. “Her parents went and got blown up at the Conclave and I got stuck with her.” 

Ana reached down, fingertips brushing over the top of the girls head. “Hm.” She glanced down at the girl, eyes wide and wet with tears, cheek pink from the slap. “Then I imagine you wouldn't object if I took her off your hands.” 

The woman looked startled. “You'll... what?”

“I am taking her. You are going to turn around and march yourself back to whatever hole you crawled out of.” 

“I-I've taken care of that brat for months! I want some sort of recompense!” Hands back on her hips, she straightened her spine.

Anahera leaned forward, her face very close to the other woman. The woman's eyes were a muddy brown and suddenly full of fear. “Consider me letting you walk away reparation. If I ever hear a word that you laid so much as a finger on another child, I'll return. Believe me, you don't want that.” The woman stared for several heartbeats, then she turned and all but ran down the slope.

Ana glanced at Varric, who was holding Bianca lovingly as he sighted the woman's retreating back. Then he sighed, swung Bianca over his shoulder and looked at Anahera. “So, have fun explaining that one to Cassandra,” he said with a nod toward Issa.

Issa had come out from behind Anahera and had her hands on her hips and her tongue stuck out as far as she could at the woman who had been her caretaker. A faint smile quirked up Ana's mouth before she knelt down and tugged the girl around to face her. “Careful,” she said quietly. “Your face might stick like that.” Issa scrunched up her features and Ana laughed. 

It had been a long time since Anahera had dared use her magic, even for something small. Memories of being Saarebas were still vivid nightmares. She cupped Issa's cheek and willed her magic awake. Issa's eyes went wide and she clapped her hand over Ana's. “Do you have any other family?” Ana asked, wanting to be sure before she took the girl away. 

“No,” Issa said with a sad shake of her head. “Mama and papa didn't have no family.” She reached up, touched one of Ana's horns, tracing the curve from forehead, around to the tip. “Are you part dragon?”

“Maybe,” Ana said with a grin. “You'll come with me for now.” 

Issa frowned. “Just for now?”

“We'll figure something out.” But Ana already adored the little girl with the tangled hair and dirt-smudged face. “But first I think we should clean you up.” 

“You might want to wait until after you break the news to the Seeker. Maybe she'll be more sympathetic,” Varric suggested and Ana agreed it couldn't hurt. 

 

“Absolutely not!” Cassandra shouted. “We cannot take a child with us!” 

“She'll stay at the camp while we're here in the Hinterlands, and then she will stay at Haven once we've returned.”

Cassandra threw her hands into the air. “Herald, you cannot be serious.” 

Anahera felt as if they'd been arguing in circles for hours. It was dangerous, yes, Ana knew that. But what else could be done? Ana would not leave the girl with some stranger. She glanced to where Issa sat beside the fire with Varric and Scout Harding. Harding was braiding the little girl's now clean and untangled locks while Varric wove them a story. “I absolutely am serious, Cassandra,” Ana said, her voice resolute. “You saw her when we arrived. I will not allow that.” 

Cassandra heaved a sigh. “You cannot save everyone, Herald.” 

Ana laughed, though it held no amusement. “I know that, Cass. Which is why I will save everyone that I can.” She felt that tightness in her chest, rubbed at it as she crossed to the fire. She found a spot leaning against the fallen log and a moment later Issa, with her hair in a long braid down her back, scrambled onto Ana's lap. Varric didn't pause in his story telling and Anahera found herself grinning at the fantastic story he was weaving. 

The weeks were long in the Hinterlands, but everyone had grown accustomed to having Issa there. Even Cassandra had relented when the little girl had appeared with a wreath of flowers and begged Cassandra to teach her how to use a sword. Even Solas had taken to the girl surprisingly quickly. 

Anahera longed for a proper bath with hot water. There was so little time for simple pleasures. Baths were hers. Issa slept soundly in her lap as they rode toward Haven. Looking down, she wondered, not for the first time, how different things could have been. Three years, nearly four since she'd had the potential for happiness. Only to have it ripped away from her so violently she'd never believed to ever find even an inkling of joy again and death would have been a welcome release.

She had been empty for a long time, as good as Tranquil for years. She had a purpose now with the Inquisition. Anahera would close the breach, or die trying. 

“What do you plan to do with her?” Solas asked, coming to ride beside her. “There are other elves at Haven, I am sure who would be willing to care for her.”

_She's mine_ , the thought was crystal clear in her mind. But Solas was probably right. Issa should be with her own kind. A couple who would love her as if she were their own, teach her about her own people. Anahera glanced down at the crown of Issa's head, wearing a slightly wilted flower crown that matched the one atop Ana's head. “We'll see,” Ana said, her arm holding the girl just a little closer. She had no claim on this child and she would do whatever was best for Issa, no matter the hole it may leave in her chest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am in the process of moving, a multi-phase process. One phase is done, I'm in the middle of the second, and had a free moment. I'm not sure when I'll get a chance to write more, hopefully soon. 
> 
> Thanks for the Kudos and to everyone who has been reading it. 
> 
> Also, if you're interested, I've got a little playlist I've been putting together for Anahera/Thom. https://playmoss.com/en/em-eagles/playlist/dust-to-dust

 

I had all and then most of you  
Some and now none of you  
Take me back to the night we met  
I don't know what I'm supposed to do  
Haunted by the ghost of you  
Oh, take me back to the night we met

“Blackwall? Warden Blackwall?” He turned, hearing the name he'd been using for the last few years. She was walking toward him, determination in her every step. Thom recognized her immediately. Hair like fire, the scar that ran from below her ear to her chin was almost stark white against the gray of her skin. More scars, he noted, watching the grace in which she moved. Thom knew he looked different, with his beard and the streaks of gray in his now longer hair. He stared at her, waited for the recognition, but it didn't come.

Four years _was_ a long time. Dropping his voice an octave lower he finally spoke. “Who are you? What do you-” Movement caught his eye and he thrust his shield up just before the arrow struck home in Anahera's skull. “Help or get out,” he barked. Thom wanted her to leave, didn't understand what she was doing there or why she was looking for the man he pretended to be.

The fight was over quick. Anahera's skill with the dual daggers made swift work of her fair share of foes. He said a few words to the men he'd 'conscripted' before turning to face Anahera as she came toward him again. “I'm an agent of the Inquisition,” she told him, her voice that familiar low rasp that took his mind back to late nights in dark rooms. Bare skin, sweat, and her cries of pleasure. “We're investigating the disappearance of the Wardens, in connection with the death of the Divine.”

He had heard some of the Inquisition, but not a lot.“That's what Wardens do,” he told her. “No Blight, we disappear.” There had been murmurs of the Herald of Andraste, handed out of the Fade by Andraste herself, marked, able to close the rifts, and hopefully the breach. His eyes slid down to the mark on her hand, then back up to her face.

The realization was slow. She stared at him, head slowly tilting. It was the eyes. The way his brow furrowed. Her eyebrows went up and she mouthed his name. Her breath left her in a rush and she flinched, took a step back and shook her head. “Well, thank you, Warden Blackwall,” she began pacing away quickly. “You've been completely unhelpful.”

“Wait,” he called after her. What was it about this woman that had him doing things he knew he shouldn't do? “An-agent, did you say? If your goal is to find out who killed the Divine, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me.” He should let her go. He didn't need to get involved. They had gone their separate ways and they should leave it at that.

Ana stared at him, incredulous. “Need you?” She had needed him four years ago. Three years ago. Two years ago. Now, he was the last person she needed.

“If you'll have me.”

_Never again,_ she wanted to say. But she clenched her jaw. He was a Warden now and Leliana had specifically requested him. They needed all the help they could get. “Fine,” she bit out the words. “Meet us at Haven.” With that, she turned on her heel and stormed away.

 

Arriving back at Haven, Anahera knew she'd have to speak with Thom. She had read Leliana's report about the Warden Blackwall, knew the truth. Thom, was that even his real name? Was _not_ Blackwall. Nearly two months had passed as they closed fade rifts and tried to gain favor in the Hinterlands. Anahera was so grateful to be back. Though speaking with Thom was not on her list of things she wanted to do. Dismounting from her horse, she heard the excited cries.

“You're back! You're back!” Issa was running full tilt down the path toward Ana, then she launched herself into her arms. Ana caught her with a laugh, her heart felt tight, longing and regret making it hard to breathe. But Issa's thin arms curling around her neck as the little girl began to immediately tell Ana everything that had happened during her time away, did much to ease the pain in her heart. “Leliana told me she'd teach me how to be a spymaster, but Josephine said I had to learn 'proper manners' first. I met the Warden Blackwall, he's nice. Made me this,” she held up a small carved wooden griffon. “Solas told me stories about the Fade and the Spirits,” she finally stopped, drew in a breath and smiled at Ana. “I missed you.”

Anahera squeezed her and placed a loud smacking kiss on her forehead. “I missed you too, Issa.” She shifted the girl's weight onto her hip as she made her way through the gates of Haven. “And Josephine is absolutely right, proper manners are important, and always come before learning to be the next spymaster.”

Issa sighed dramatically then rested her head against Ana's shoulder. “How long can you stay before you have to go away again?”

“I don't know, Imekari.”

Hours later, Anahera still carried Issa on her hip, though the girl was asleep now. Issa had refused to let Ana out of her sight, and honestly, Ana had felt the same. Arrangements were being made to travel to The Storm Coast to meet the leader of a Mercenary group lead by The Iron Bull, a Qunari. Just the thought of it left Anahera feeling uneasy. Could it be a trap? She wondered, touching the scars around her lips.

Making her way down to the stables where she'd heard the Warden Blackwall could be found, she did her best to steel herself. She found him there, leaning against the stone wall as he stared up at the breach in the sky. He glanced over as she approached. “They say you walked out of that,” his voice was soft, in deference to the sleeping child in her arms.

Anahera stared hard at him, refusing to let her mind wander back to the handful of nights they spent together. To the way his hands felt on her skin or how his lips felt against hers. “Tell me, _Warden Blackwall_ , what exactly do you think is going to happen here?”

Thom bowed his head, then tipped his face back up to meet her gaze. “I am here to help, Ana. I want to help.”

“As the Warden Commander Blackwall?” she hissed. “Did you think I wouldn't figure it out? That I am too stupid-”

“No,” he interrupted. “Of course, I didn't. You know I didn't,” his tone was emphatic. “I'm here to help you, nothing more.”

“You are a liar,” she ground out between her teeth.

“The Warden Blackwall died. I was with him, was to join the Wardens. It was just a handful of nights after that last time,” he trailed off, brows knitting together. “He was a good man. I thought it a shame for the world to lose him. I was a nobody. No one would miss me if I disappeared.”

Anahera felt her heart skip a beat. Not miss him? Hadn't she missed him every day for years? Her eyes fell shut. “If you'd rather I leave, I will. But I only want to help you, Ana.” A feather-light touch brushed against her lower lip and she flinched, jerking away from Thom. “There's more of them,” he said quietly and she quickly turned her face away.

“I don't care what you do,” she muttered.

“Will you tell the others?” he asked. “The truth about me?”

They would wonder how she knew the truth if she did. It wasn't worth the inquiries about her past with this man. “No,” she said simply, then turned and walked away.

 

That night, after tucking Issa into bed Anahera made her way down to the dock on the frozen lake. She sat, feet dangling over the edge and tipped her head back to stare up at the sky. Thom was at Haven, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. A part of her, deep down, had been so overjoyed to see him. But the rest of her, most of her, flinched away from the very idea of him being there. The torturous months she endured after the last time she saw him had been a hell unlike any she'd experienced before.

Anahera didn't need to look to know whose heavy footsteps made the wooden planks of the dock vibrate. Maybe, if she ignored him, he'd go away. But no, instead, he dropped down beside her quiet a quiet groan. He was looking at her, she just knew it. Rough fingers brushed gently against her wrist. She jerked her arm away. “Don't,” she said quickly then glanced down, stared at the scars around her wrists and silently cursed the too short sleeves of her jacket.

“So many new scars,” he commented quietly.

He didn't know the half of it, she thought and got to her feet without a word. She was halfway back up the dock when he caught her arm.

“Ana,” Thom said, his voice slightly rough.

She spun around and kissed him hard. Lips bruising, teeth bumping together. Anahera thought she tasted blood. Thom's hand wove into her hair, tugged, but not to break the kiss. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and swallowed the moan that she let slip. Then they were falling, tumbling into the snow, Thom tugging her over him, then rolling her onto her back.

It was cold and she felt the wet seeping through her clothes, but she didn't care because Thom's hand was between her thighs, cupping her possessively, knowing fingers stroking over her clit through layers of fabric. She could feel the press of his cock against her hip as he ravaged her mouth. Anahera shoved him onto his back, then made quick work of her pants, her boot tossed haphazardly over her shoulder, one leg finally free, she straddled his hips, found he'd already shoved his own trousers down just enough. Unfair, she thought, it was why she preferred skirts. But then she felt his hot length against her dripping core and all she cared about was having him inside of her.

Thom thrust his hips up hard as she began to sink down, his fingers gripping her hips. Back arched, Ana clamped her hand over her mouth, stifling the strangled cry that escaped. It set the pace, she rode him, fast and hard. His thumb began to tease her clit and she was suddenly at the edge.

“Ana,” he moaned softly and she couldn't help but look at him. He watched her, lids heavy, lips parted as he struggled with every breath, his hips pumping in rhythm with her own.

Anahera jerked suddenly, practically throwing herself off of him. She tumbled into the snow beside him and chest heaving with every breath, her body aching from the denial of pleasure.

“Ana, what-”

“Mistake,” she bit out. “It was a mistake.” She struggled with her pants, angry tears burning her eyes. Pants up and fastened she went for her boot and realized Thom hadn't moved. His cock, slick and hard lay throbbing against his belly. She met his eyes and saw the concern in his gaze. Ana shoved her foot into her boot and quickly walked away.

Stopping outside the door to her cabin she leaned against the wall beside the door and struggled to catch her breath and stop the tears that were now rolling down her cheeks. She pressed her hands to her face and wished she'd never found him again. Her heart ached and the hollow feeling was rapidly returning. Dropping her hands she stared at the scars that shackled her wrists.

Anahera wondered if she should tell him, if he'd care. She'd never spoken of it to anyone. Not even Shokrakar and the other Valo-Kas mercenaries who'd come to her rescue. But they had known she wasn't the same when they brought her back. Dropping her arms to her side, Anahera drew in a deep breath and then pushed open the door to her cabin. The fire was banked and the room was dark, but enough moonlight trickled in through the window to see the small figure curled up in the center of the bed, black hair a tangled mess, spread across the pillow.

She'd speak with Josephine, find someone who could care for Issa because Anahera knew she couldn't do it. Shouldn't do it. Wasn't fit. Absently, she reached up and rubbed her sternum, ignored the ache.

 

They set out before dawn for the Storm Coast where they were to meet The Iron Bull and his Chargers. Anahera's head ached. She hadn't slept and had nearly choked on the words when she told Josephine that she should find someone else to care for Issa.

Now she was going to be forced to spend weeks, possibly months in close quarters with Thom. When discussing the departure, Cassandra had all but insisted the Warden accompany Anahera. It would allow her to get to know him. Ana had nearly scoffed. Now, she, Solas, Varric and the Warden were making their way on horseback toward the Storm Coast.

Her body ached, low in her belly, the pleasure so close yet denied. She knew he wouldn't deny her, despite her reaction to him to the previous night. It was obvious with the way he looked at her. But she could see the concern there too. Eyes lingering on her mouth, her wrists, her throat. The scars she'd never tried to hide before were suddenly all she could think about.

 

Thom had quickly got on with Varric and Solas. They liked him. He's a liar, she thought. A bastard and a liar. But she didn't mean it. Anahera didn't know what he'd been running from when he'd found her in that cabin all those years ago. It didn't matter. He'd done what he could to make something better for himself. Who was she to judge? She was a murderer and not once had she shied away from that truth.

Never had she tried to make something better of herself. Wardens were heroes. She was...not.

“Think that's them,” Varric said, nodding his head to a group fighting on the shore. She spotted The Iron Bull immediately. The massive horns were impossible to miss. A Qunari,one she didn't know. It made her heart beat faster, her mouth was dry and she was terrified. What if it was a trap?

The fight was over quickly once Anahera and her companions joined the fray. Anahera stared hard at the Iron Bull as he looked her over. He let out a laugh. “Never would have believed it.” He continued on, explaining the reasons why she would want him, and the Chargers to join the Inquisition, but she wasn't listening. She just kept shaking her head. No. It was a trap. She knew it. It had to be. “I'm going to tell you something, might piss you off. Ever heard of the Ben-Hassrath?”

She could taste bile. She would die before she let them take her again. Anahera turned and walked away, spine straight, pace quick. She heard the crunch of rock behind her. Thom was hot on her heels. “Ana,” he called after her, but she kept walking. Her hands in fists to keep them from shaking. She was going to be sick. She quickened her pace, slipped around an outcropping of rocks and heaved. Ana braced her hands against the rocks was certain her insides were going to twist their way right out of her.

“Ana,” Thom said again, his voice softer this time, but right beside her.

“Go away,” she choked out, dropped her forehead against the rocks and clenched her eyes shut tightly.

“You and I both know that isn't going to happen,” he muttered, then she felt the weight of his hand on her back.

She jerked back, shoved his hand away. “Don't touch me,” she hissed at him, then walked along the beach toward the water. Still, he followed. He kept up, and she tried to ignore him as she dropped down to her knees near the small creek that fed into the ocean. She cupped the water in her hands, splashed it on her face.

Thom remained quiet while she tried her best to compose herself. “You know him,” he finally said and Anahera's head fell forward, shoulders slumping. “Former lover?”

Was there a hint of jealousy in his voice? She wondered. “No, I don't know him. Heard of him,” she said, shoving back to her feet, she thrust her shoulders back, straightened her spine and stared down at Thom, a part of her wishing he was actually intimidated by her like so many others were. “He's Ben-Hassrath.”

“What's that?” Thom asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Spies, essentially. But more than just that. They are what Qunari children's nightmares are full of.” And some never grew out of it. Movement caught her eye and Anahera flinched when she realized Iron Bull had followed them, silently. He stood, shoulder against a tree, watching.

“They don't want you back,” he said, voice casual. “A lost cause, even for rehabilitation. They want the breach closed. That's it. You want me on your team,” he told her. “Yeah, I'm a spy, but I'll feed you intel too.”

Anahera looked away, clenched her jaw. “You run every report past Leliana first and send nothing she doesn't approve. Betray the Inquisition and Cassandra will eat you alive.”

“Wouldn't have it any other way.”

Without giving Iron Bull or Thom some much as a passing glance she walked back to the camp.

 

The water was like ice on her skin, but she welcomed it. The half-concealed moon was the only light and all she could hear was the sound of the water lapping at the rocks. Anahera held her breath, dove under the surface and stayed there until her lungs began to ache. She repeated the action over and over again, welcoming the numbness of her skin. Ana sucked in a breath as she came to the surface, saw movement on the shore and silently cursed. Her knives were on top of her clothes. No way she could get to them before whoever it was got to her.

Then the clouds shifted over the moon and she saw her late night visitor. This time she cursed out loud. Thom stood on the shore, arms crossed over his chest, staring at her. The moon was too full, too bright. “Leave,” she said, but he didn't move. Ana was not ashamed of her body, her nakedness. But the scars. He'd see them all, would ask questions that she had no intention of ever answering.

She couldn't stay in the water forever and it was obvious Thom wasn't going anywhere. Ana stormed out of the water, doing her best to keep her body angled away as she made her way to her clothes. Giving him her back, she bent, grabbed her knives, briefly fantasized about throwing them at Thom, before she grabbed her shirt.

His fingertips felt like fire against her bare skin and she gasped. “Don't-” the protest was choked out.

“Maker's balls, Ana.” Thom's fingers traced the scar that ran diagonally up her back, from hip to shoulder. “Looks like lightning,” he commented quietly, fingers gliding along the narrow lines that branched out from the center.

“Not far off,” she bit out, then clamped her hand over her mouth when his lips brushed gently against her shoulder blade. The coarse hair of his beard on her skin was tantalizing and she wanted to feel it everywhere. No! She silently yelled at herself.

Her breathing hitched as he began to trace the scar. When she felt him sink down to his knees and lick her hip Anahera shot her hands out and pressed them against the large boulder in front of her. “Let me touch you, Ana. Please,” he rasped.

She knew what he meant, knew what he wanted. It was what she wanted, too. Leaning forward, she arched her spine, spread her legs a bit wider and wiggled her hips. “Yes,” it came out a whisper, but Thom heard it. The next instant his mouth was on her and she bit down on her knuckle to keep from crying out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, unknown to me, this story is not showing up as being updated in the DA feeds it's tagged in. I don't know what to do about it. Really, it doesn't matter.
> 
> \-- I bitched and it suddenly appeared - ten stories down ... it's fine. At least it worked this time. -- I'm bitchy. I'm sorry. Ignore me.

His tongue lashed at her, lapping and prodding. Making it hard to think, hard to breathe. Her entire being was focused on the space between her legs. The pleasure this man was able to create astounded her still. Enthusiasm and attention to detail and she was cresting heartbeats later. She felt him trail kisses up her spine, his fingers still working between her legs, gently teasing her toward another orgasm. Anahera expected to feel the hard length of him, the sweet relief of him slipping inside, but only felt the press of his body against hers.

Thom held her, one hand on her hip, the other curled around her, between her legs, fingers pumping while his thumb lightly teased her clit. Anahera was bent against the rock, head bowed, still clutching her shirt to her chest. He wanted little more than to open his trousers and slide home, feel the hot wet clench of her around him as she came again and again. But something had changed in the years they had been apart. He didn't want a repeat of her performance on the docks back at Haven.

At least she was allowing him to touch her, he thought as he pressed light kisses against the back of her shoulder. Noted more scars. It was dark and her hair, loose and wet made it hard to tell what was scar, or shadow. He needed to know what had happened to her in their time apart. But he needed her to trust him first.

He felt her tense, her thighs trembled and she ducked her head down, trying to muffle the cry that escaped. Thom didn't let up, he kept touching her until the only thing supporting her weight was him and the rock. Ana brought her hand down and pulled it away from her center and rested it over his as he splayed it low on her belly. Still, he pressed light kisses against her back and he felt the shudder pass through her entire body.

Neither of them moved for a long while, then, finally, Thom broke away, gathered Ana's clothes and helped her dress, though she wouldn't release the shirt she held to her chest. “Thom?” her voice cracked.

“It's late, we should get back to the camp.”

She reached out, grasped his bicep. “But, you didn't-” she sent a meaningful glance down at the bulge in his pants.

Without a word, Thom reached up, cupped the back of her head and tugged her mouth down to meet his. The kiss was hard, teeth banged together, and his tongue thrust into her mouth, curling around her own before he broke away. “I got what I wanted,” he said when he finally broke the kiss. It wouldn't be the first time he'd lain in bed, fisting his cock, thinking about Ana, but this time, he'd still have the taste of her on his tongue.

He turned and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her tug her shirt over her head, then they walked back to the camp in silence. Ana went into her tent and Thom sat in front of the fire. Anahera crawled into her tent, curled up on the thin mat and pulled the blankets around her. Her legs still felt weak and she could still feel the quiet tremors of pleasure emanating from her belly.

It was still a mistake, she shouldn't have let him touch her. But she was weak, she knew that. Couldn't resist the man who still remembered exactly how to make her forget everything but him.

 

They had spent far too long on the Storm Coast. Anahera was delaying their return to Haven. The guilt over Issa was growing ten-fold each day. Issa would never forgive her and honestly, Ana would never forgive herself either. But Issa didn't belong with her. Anahera wasn't supposed to be anyone's mother. So they had explored every possible inch of the Storm Coast, gained the Blades of Hessarian as allies, found the Warden artifacts and battled giants and a dragon.

Most nights, Ana had run herself to exhaustion, and she would crawl into her tent, and fall into dreamless unconsciousness until the early morning light roused her. But a handful of the nights, plagued by nightmares, when Ana would wander away from camp, Thom would find her. No matter how many times she told herself it was wrong, a mistake, that it couldn't happen, she'd allow him to command her body. He took her pleasure, devoured it. Only when she was utterly consumed did he lead her back to camp and nudge her toward her tent.

What game was he playing at? She wondered. He gave her only pleasure and took none for himself. She couldn't imagine, despite his enthusiasm, that he enjoyed pleasuring her as much as he enjoyed fucking her. Even she and Kaaras' arrangement had been mutually beneficial. Though Kaaras had never kissed her, never put his mouth between her legs and lapped at her the way Thom did.

Heat blossomed between her thighs at the mere thought and she shifted in the saddle. Then they were at Haven. “Strange,” Thom commented, dismounting beside her. Ana glanced at him, quirked a brow. “Issa is usually halfway down the path by now shrieking with joy.”

Anahera looked away, handed her reins to the stable master and walked away without a word. No, Issa would never forgive her. The ache in her chest was all consuming. It's what is best for Issa, she reminded herself. Ana nearly reached the Chantry when Josephine came hurrying out, looking distraught. Ana had never seen the woman look so disheveled. “Josephine, what's-”

“She's gone,” she said in a rush. “She's been gone. I waited a few days after you left, spoke with her, had found a family, they have a child of their own, but were more than willing to take on Issa-”

“What do you mean she's gone!?” the words exploded from Anahera's lips.

“She ran away in the middle of the night,” tears shone in Josephine's eyes. “Soldiers have been out looking for her, Cullen and Leliana both have people searching, but-”

Anahera didn't even glance at Thom as he came up beside her. “Where are they? The family? I want to speak with them.” She had to find Issa. She had to. Weeks would have passed.

“I believe they are at the tavern.” Anahera turned and quickly strode to the tavern, an elvish couple stood immediately when she walked in, Ana saw the fear in their eyes. Fear of her? Or for Issa?

“May I have a word?” It took everything to keep her voice steady, but they agreed and stepped outside with Anahera. “Tell me everything, please.”

They recounted everything from Josephine asking if they would be willing to take Issa, raise her as one of their own, and they had agreed. More than happy to care for the child who'd lost everything. She hadn't seemed happy, but they had believed she was still mourning the loss of her parents. Their son, only a few years old had adored her and they had thought Issa enjoyed playing with him. But sometime between tucking them into bed, and the little boy waking in the early morning hours, she'd vanished.

“We're so sorry,” the woman began to cry. “You rescued her, and now we lost her.”

Anahera shook her head. “This isn't your fault,” her voice was quiet and rough. “It's mine. Please, don't blame yourselves.” Ana had to find her. Soldiers and spies had searched and hadn't been able to find her, but Ana would not rest until she found Issa. She stopped at her cabin, gathered a pack with healing potions, water and food and set out.

Glancing around once she was outside the gates she tried to decide which way Issa might have gone. Flatter, more of a trail. Anahera began to walk. “Issa?” she called, voice cracking. “Issa? Please, Imekari, please.”

The sun was sinking lower and lower in the sky and Anahera hadn't seen any sign of Issa. Or anyone else for that matter. What if she never- Anahera inhaled sharply, spotting a lump in the snow, small, and surrounded by blood and canine footprints. Bile rose in her throat as she ran. “No, oh no,” she gasped out, falling to her knees before the blood stain. Nothing, save for flesh and bone and blood. So much blood.

My fault, she thought. My fault. All of it, everything. Shokrakar should never have saved her. Kaaras should never have saved her. Thom should have left her to die. How much pain had she been in? Had she suffered? Of course, she had. The sob ripped out of her and Anahera doubled over and screamed.

 

Thom had been following Anahera's trail since he realized she'd left Haven in search of Issa. It was late and he wondered how long Ana would search. When he heard her scream he began to run. The sound so full of anguish that he was afraid something had happened. He found her, kneeling and hunched over in the snow, sobs wracking her body. It took several moments to realize that the blood was not hers. His heart began to calm, but only just.

Closing the distance, he slid an arm around her shoulders and guided her to her feet. “Come on,” he murmured and she didn't resist. He kept his arm around her as they walked. Ana's tears were silent and steady. They took the long way around, bypassing the entrance to Haven until they reached the old alchemist's home.

“I'm sorry,” Ana's voice wavered. “I failed, Issa and... and you. You should have let me die.”

Thom looked up at her, startled. “Why?”

“Everything about me is a mistake. Every moment of my life. Shokrakar should have left me to die.”

Thom opened the door and shoved Ana into the small cabin. Immediately she was surrounded by warmth, a comfort she knew she didn't deserve. “What-” she started to turn to Thom, but then the small body, curled beneath a blanket on the rug in front of the low burning fire had Anahera's knees giving out beneath her.

The blanket moved and the little girl sat up, rubbed her eyes and pushed the tangled black hair from her face. Fury filled the girl's expression and Ana was sobbing again. “You left me!” Issa wailed, running across the room to Anahera. “I hate you!” Tiny fists struck out, pounding against Ana's chest. Then Issa was in Ana's lap, arms wound tightly around her neck, legs around her waist as she sobbed too.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” Anahera pressed her face into the top of Issa's head, held her too tightly and wept.

 

Anahera looked up when she heard the door open, Thom strode in, glanced at the two propped against the wall, Issa sleeping against Ana's chest. He crossed to the fire, picked up the blanket and walked back to drape it over the little girl's back. He crouched there beside them and Anahera bowed her head. She was ashamed and she knew Thom saw too much. A calloused thumb stroked over her cheek and she turned her face away. “Don't,” she whispered.

“What happens now?” he asked, nodding to Issa, forearms resting on his knees, hands hanging loose.

“She's mine,” Anahera whispered. “I promised her... I'm not good enough. I have no business raising her. She'd be so much better off with anyone else. But I promised her, she's mine.”

“Why wouldn't you-”

“Because,” she snapped. “Just let it go.” Ana pressed her lips against the top of Issa's head and closed her eyes. “You knew she was here. How?”

“Flissa. The girl at the tavern. When you went in to speak to the couple who had taken Issa in, Flissa looked petrified. I went and spoke with her. She'd found Issa when she sneaked out. Flissa promised she wouldn't tell anyone where she'd gone, but had suggested Issa wait till it thawed out some before she left. Suggested this cabin, brought her food and water. Kept the fire going for her.”

“Josephine said soldiers and spies were out looking for her. I know they can't be so incompetent that no one noticed a fire burning at a vacant cabin.”

“Flissa had taken to staying out here. Asked for privacy. Promised to keep an eye out for the girl.”

Ana could only imagine what would have happened if the Flissa hadn't found Issa. Her mind went back to the bloodied snow, it must have been a wild animal. A nug maybe? But if it weren't for Flissa, it would have likely been Issa's body she'd found. Issa made a quiet sound of protest when Anahera's arms tightened around her.

Using the wall, Anahera pushed up to her feet, not releasing Issa. She knew that soon she would have to, because they needed to choose a side, Mages or Templars, to help close the breach. But that would have to wait. Closing the breach was the Inquisition's priority. It should have been hers as well. But the little girl, with the tear-stained face, with too skinny arms wrapped around her neck, was Ana's. Keeping the blanket around her, Anahera made her way the short distance to the gates of Haven and slipped inside. People looked relieved, but not surprised, and Ana realized that when Thom had left her and Issa he must have come to tell them to call off the search.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, of course, since I have things to do, I'm sitting here writing instead. It is highly unlikely I'll be around for the next few weeks, as my very long trek halfway across the country begins tomorrow(with some detours along the way).

_I'm running from nothing, no thoughts in my mind_  
_Oh my heart was all black_  
_But I saw something shine_  
_Thought that part was yours, but it might just be mine_  
_I could share it with you if you gave me the time_  
_I'm all bloody knuckles, longing for home_  
_If it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone_

“I want horns, like Ana's!” Issa said as she climbed up on the stone wall next to where Thom stood. He reached out a hand, just in case, as she teetered before finally, she sunk down to sit.

“Horns?” he asked, giving her a curious look. It had been a little over a week since they had returned from the Storm Coast to find Issa missing. He had a feeling that Anahera was putting off making a decision about whether to use the mages or the Templars so that she could stay with Issa just a little while longer. Issa seemed content, accepting Ana's promise. 

“Horns!” she exclaimed, brought her hands up on either side of her head, and held up a finger from each hand. “Could you make 'em? Like you made my griffon?” She tugged said griffon from where she wore it laced on a cord around her neck. 

“I'll uh, see what I can do.” The little girl was a wonder, he thought. She had everyone wrapped around her finger, himself included. She leaned in, rested her head against his shoulder and looked up at the sky.

“You keep Ana safe?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

Thom felt a tightness in his throat, all due to this little girl's trust. She slid her arms around his neck and held on until he had no choice but to slip his arm around her and support her weight. He hadn't spent any time with children since he was a child himself. “Anahera doesn't need anyone to keep her safe. She does that herself,” he said. But she had so many new scars, more he knew than he'd seen already. “But I'll keep an eye on her, if that pleases you, my lady.” 

Issa giggled quietly and nodded. “Yes, Ser.” 

 

The future. They'd ended up in the future. “Come, we must find Alexius,” Dorian said and Anahera agreed. They came upon cells, Varric sat in one, and after explaining what happened he just shook his head. “Shit that happens to you is weird. Come on, Blackwall is here somewhere.”

Thom. It didn't take long to find him. The look he gave her was one mixed with shock and horror. “Andraste have mercy,” he said. “You're dead, I saw you die.” 

“Thom,” his real name slipped out and she didn't even realize it. She fumbled with the key, trying to unlock the door. “Are you alright?”

“The dead should stay dead.”

“I'm not dead, and neither are you. Alexius used magic and it sent Dorian and I forward in time.” 

Thom stared at her, eyes narrowing as he stepped through the doorway. Anahera hadn't been sure what to expect, but his hand gripping the back of her head and yanking her mouth down to meet his was the farthest thought from her mind. Of course, she kissed him back. The kiss was hard, almost violent. He felt strange against her lips, the taste of him wrong somehow. Like the air before a lightning storm. Sharp and electric.

He broke the kiss first, but his hand still held her face close. Ana stared into his eyes, the deep brown tinged with red. The lyrium, she thought. 

Varric cleared his throat and Anahera jerked back, suddenly remembering their companions. Dorian was smirking, a brow raised. Varric looked pleased. “I had my suspicions,” he said when Ana narrowed her eyes at him. “The two of you go way back.” 

“We need to find a way out of here,” Anahera bit out the words, spinning on her heel and stomping through the puddles toward the door of the chamber. 

 

They were trying to find red lyrium shards, per Dorian's request. She'd sent the others one direction and gone the opposite. Just a moment alone. A chance to catch her breath and try to sort things out. She was terrified of what it would mean for Thedas if they didn't figure out a way to get back. 

Footsteps behind her, she drew her blade and whirled around to find Thom standing there, shoulder against the door frame. She stared at him for a long moment before sheathing the blade and turning back to the crates. “I thought you were dead,” he said, voice a little gruffer than usual.

“You mentioned that,” she muttered. She didn't know what he wanted from her. She hadn't known what the old Thom wanted, didn't know what this future Thom wanted. “Do you know what happened to Issa?” Ana asked quietly, afraid of the answer. She stopped in her rummaging and turned to look at him. 

He shook his head. “If there is a Maker, I pray she died early in the first wave.” Pain clutched at Ana's heart. The idea of Issa dead hurt, but the idea of her tortured, living with the red lyrium was worse. Had Issa thought Anahera had abandoned her again? Another thing she'd never forgive herself for.

They simply stared at each other for a long time. They had to fix this. Go back in time. This man wouldn't exist. Before she realized what she was doing she'd reached out to touch him, fingers grazed the front of his gambeson before she quickly yanked her hand back. He had her pinned to the wall in the next moment. Hands on her hips, gripping, lifting. Surprise at his sudden strength stunned her for a moment before she yanked her skirt up and wrapped her legs around his waist. The red lyrium, she thought, catching his mouth with hers, didn't just make him taste different.

“One last time, Ana?” he asked, fingers teasing her. 

She shook her head, held his face between her hands. “No,” the single word vehement. Because for some reason, this man kept finding his way into her life. She didn't know what the future would hold, but she did know that somehow, someway, this man would be in it with her. “Not just one last time.” One hard thrust and he was buried to the hilt inside of her, shoving the air from her lungs. She clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as he began pounding into her, her lower back thumping against the rough stone wall with each thrust. 

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, licked, sucked and bit, leaving a mark that she knew would last for days. She shoved her hand into the collar of his shirt, desperate to feel skin. Her blunt nails dug into the back of his neck, leaving her own mark as his thrusts became almost frantic. The orgasm ripped through her. It had been so long since she'd come from more than just his fingers or tongue. Her body ached as her inner walls clenched around the thick length of him. 

His cock pulsed inside of her and Ana clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the noises and clenched her eyes shut against the sudden tears. When his length stopped twitching inside of her he finally withdrew, helped her regain her footing, but he wouldn't look at her. 

His back was to her as he put himself back to rights. Ana tugged her shirt down, smoothed down the front of herself, her hand pausing low on her belly. She could feel his come dripping down her thighs. “The last time we met at that pub, a few days later the Ben-Haasrath found me.” Her throat felt raw, and the words were like razors. 

“I had guessed as much,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “How long did they have you?” 

“Shokrakar tells me it was almost a year.” Thom made a quiet sound. This man wouldn't exist, she reminded herself. Because they would fix time. So no matter what she said to him, it didn't matter. “I was pregnant.” 

The air seemed to go completely still, the room silent. Slowly he turned to look at her, face unreadable. “I didn't know. They didn't know. I fought for months against them, refused to give in. I would not be caged again.” She reached up to tug down the collar of her shirt, revealing the wide scar. “They planned to send me to be rehabilitated, but first, they wanted to break me. The pain, the electricity-” It had seemed to go on for days. It might have. She'd lost all senses. Only known pain. 

She had vague memories of their disappointment at the loss of a child for the Qun. They had only meant to break her will, but they had utterly destroyed her. The child she hadn't known she carried was gone. Her magic a curse. Nothing they had done would prod her into any sort of reaction. When the Valo-Kas had come to save her, Shokrakar had been forced to drag Anahera because she'd not had the energy or even the will to live. All she had wanted was death.

“You never told me,” the words were an accusation. 

Ana bowed her head and closed her eyes. “What would it have changed? The child was gone and-” her voice caught in her throat. “I had no reason to believe you would care.” 

“You said to me once, that you wished I'd left you to die.” 

“I don't regret the time I spent with you, in the cabin or in the pub. Only all the time that came after. If Shokrakar had left me to die...” she would have willingly. She'd already decided that going to the conclave would be her last job. Shokrakar hadn't known, nor had anyone else in the Valo-Kas mercenaries. 

Thom crossed his arms over his chest, watched her with narrowed eyes. “Sounds awfully selfish.” 

“If you two are quite done,” Dorian appeared at Thom's elbow. “I think we have enough red lyrium.” 

“We're finished,” Anahera said, brushing past both men and back into the main room. They found Leliana, who had given them more information before they came face to face with Alexius. 

“Give me an hour,” Dorian said, holding the device that had thrown them through time.

“You don't have an hour! You need to go now!” Leliana insisted.

Varric and Thom looked at each other, silent words exchanged. Anahera shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “Don't.” It didn't matter if this Thom wouldn't exist once they went back and were able to change the future if they were able to change it. 

Thom closed the distance between them, held her chin in his hand brushed a kiss against her mouth. “Keep her safe,” he said, then turned and walked through the large door with Varric at his side. 

Anahera could hear the fighting outside, the banging on the massive barred doors while Dorian frantically worked to open the portal through time. When the doors flew open and she saw one of the demons carrying a blood-soaked Thom like a rag doll, she nearly lost it. Magic so long unused sparked over her fingertips. She hadn't even realized she moved until Dorian grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back. “You move. We die!” 

Thom's body was tossed aside, eyes open and empty, he stared straight through her. “Now! Go now!” Dorian shoved her shoulder, pushing her through the portal. The experience was dizzying. Her stomach roiled and she tried to catch her bearings. She saw Thom, looking a little bewildered, but unharmed. Just as he'd been when they walked into the grand hall to confront Alexius. It took everything in her not to run to him. 

“You'll have to do better than that, Alexius.” 

The man gave up without a fight this time and Anahera was grateful. “We need to get back to Haven,” she said after King Alistair appeared and banished the mages and politely requested they leave immediately.

They obeyed, traveling for hours before they stopped to make camp. Anahera was dead on her feet. Tired and sore, but she didn't imagine sleep would come easily. She found a rock at the edge of the lake they camped near and let her feet dangle in the water. She waited, waited. Thom didn't come. Finally, she gave up and retired to her tent. Not once in the days that it took them to return to Haven did Thom come to her. He barely looked at her, scarcely acknowledged her existence. 

She could feel the knot of anxiety in her belly. She knew there was no way that Thom could know what she'd said to the man in the future who would never exist. But in the early morning hours, before they'd gone to confront Alexius, Thom had nibbled her ear, and let his fingers work their magic between her thighs. Now, she felt bereft of his touch.

 

As they approached Haven, mages in tow, Anahera looked over the people waiting, saw a child, bouncing from foot to foot. Issa, she grinned. But then her brow furrowed. The girl with the long black hair had horns. Curved much like her own. Her heart kicked in her chest as she dismounted, and then the child was all but flying down the path and into her arms. Ana caught her, blinked in surprise as she looked at her. Issa, but with horns. “Blackwall made them for me! What do you think?” 

A sob escaped Ana's lips as she sunk down to her knees and cupped Issa's face. “You have horns,” Anahera said dumbly.

“Like yours!” Then Issa frowned. “You're crying.” She reached up as if to tug the horns off, but Ana caught her hand.

“No, don't. They're perfect. I love them. Oh, Imekari, you didn't need horns for me to love you, you're mine. No matter what.” 

“But now I'm like you,” Issa said, tossing her arms around Anahera's neck. 

Ana stood up, arms tight around her waist. “Oh, sweet girl,” she kissed her cheek and then turned, saw Thom watching them before he turned and walked away. 

 

The plan was to leave to close the breach first thing in the morning. Anahera had laid down with Issa for a long time that night after reading to her. “Did you mean it?” Issa asked, voice quiet in the dark cabin.

“Mean what?”

“That I'm yours.” 

“With every ounce of my heart,” Ana said, turning her face to see Issa's sleepy eyes watching her.

“I love you too,” she told her, shifting to rest her cheek against Anahera's shoulder. “What did you call your mom?”

Ana sighed quietly, pressed a kiss to the crown of Issa's head. “I didn't have one. Or a father. I was raised by... a nanny, more or less.” 

“Did she read you bedtime stories?” 

Did they? She couldn't remember. Had there been any good? Her magic had made itself known early on in her childhood. No, she thought. Nothing good. “I don't think so,” Ana finally answered.

“That's sad,” Issa said with a yawn. “I'll read you bedtime stories.” 

Ana let out a quiet laugh and closed her eyes. “Tomorrow night, you need to sleep, my sweet girl.” 

Once she was certain Issa was asleep, Ana carefully climbed out of bed and nodded to one of the guards on duty. “I'll be right back, keep an eye out for her?” 

“Of course, my lady.” 

Anahera made her way down the path and to the small cabin beside the forge. Thom was sitting on a crate, hands clasped with his head bowed. He didn't look up as she approached and Ana wondered if he was asleep. “Thom,” she murmured, hand reaching out to brush against his shoulder.

“What,” the word was harsh and clipped and had her jerking her hand away.

“Are you alright?” she asked, keeping her voice soft. 

“I'm fine. You should be resting. The sooner morning comes and you close the breach, I can be on my way.” 

She flinched at that. The words, the curt tone. “You-you're leaving?” 

“Of course I am,” Thom shoved up to his feet, shot her a narrow-eyed look before walking away. 

“What? Why? I don't understand,” Anahera said following him. 

“There isn't anything keep me here. No reason to stay.” 

The words were a lance to her heart. She knew she hadn't treated him fairly. But hadn't imagined this would be his final solution. “Oh,” her shoulders sagged, hands fell to her sides. She should let him go, shouldn't she? Anahera thought of the Thom she'd met in the future, who had kissed her with such ferocity before he'd died to keep her safe. Looking at the back of the man walking away from her. She wanted him to be safe, to know happiness. She couldn't imagine he'd find that here, not with her. “Thank you for Issa's horns,” she said finally. “She adores them.” He'd stopped walking, just stood there. “You don't need to stay if you'd rather just leave. Cassandra and Solas will accompany me to the breach, see that it is closed. I'm sure with the help of the mages it will only be a matter of time before the world is back to normal.” 

Anahera turned to go, ignored the ache in her chest. “Tell me who it is,” Thom said and she glanced back brow furrowing.

“Who?”

“Don't play dumb, whoever it was left a bite mark plain as day on your neck.” Ana slapped her hand against the mark. She'd completely forgotten. “If you don't want anyone to know about it, you should tell your lover to keep them where they are more easily hid.” She thought of all the love bites he'd left on her skin. Her breasts, her belly, her thighs. “You didn't have that mark on your neck when we arrived to speak with Alexius, but you did when you reappeared! Was it Dorian? Varric?”

He was jealous. There was a look of fire in his eyes, and she noted, hurt. “It was you, you idiot!”

“I did not-”

“Future you! Maker's balls, Thom. You fucked me against a wall and I reveled in every second of it.” Neither spoke for long minutes, they just stared at each other. Finally, Anahera began to close the distance between them. “I found you locked in a cell, surrounded by red lyrium. The moment you were out, you kissed me.” She licked her bottom lip, could remember so vividly the taste of him on her lips. “We split up, looking for shards of red lyrium, so Dorian could try to open this door, you followed me. You picked me up, pinned me to the wall, and you fucked me. Then you died. There was nothing I could do to stop it. It shouldn't have mattered anyways, because that world existing means we failed, that future you existing means it was all for naught. Means I really am nothing more than a mistake.”

Thom thrust his hand into her hair, pressed his forehead to hers. “You are not a mistake.” Then he tugged her head back, closed his mouth over the mark on her throat and sucked hard. Anahera whimpered, clung to him, then dragged him down to the snow with her as her knees went weak. She pushed him onto his back, left a matching mark on his throat while grinding her hips against his. She was soaked and could feel the press of his cock through his pants. All it would take was hiking her skirt up and she could ride him until the sun came up. Instead, she slithered down his body and tugged open his pants.

“Ana, come back up here,” Thom said, hands reaching. She caught one of his hands and slid it into her hair, squeezing it around a fistful of the loose red locks. Then she wrapped her lips around his hard cock and sucked. “Fuck!” Thom bellowed, surely waking half of Haven. It didn't take long for Ana's jaw to begin to ache, it had been so long. But every sound she wrung from him sent a bolt of pleasure to her core. He began to repeat a litany of her name as she took him deep, the head of his cock brushing the back of her throat. Fingers tightened in her hair, bordering on pain, a moan escaped her and Thom bucked his hips. 

Anahera took note, hummed softly, then heard Thom keen. She wrapped one hand around the base of him, while the other stroked his inner thigh. She bobbed her head, humming and sucking, licking and ever so lightly letting her teeth scrape along the length of him. “Maker,” he choked out. “Fuck. Ana,” his voice was desperate. She kept up the steady pace, and heartbeats later she swallowed several times, his come flooding her mouth, coating her tongue. 

He was panting, eyes closed, chest heaving when she finally withdrew her mouth and carefully retied his pants. She sat beside him, feeling slightly awkward. She'd missed the feel of his arms around her, the way he held her, kissed her, touched her, in the afterglow. “It's only ever been you, Thom,” she said quietly. Wasn't sure if he'd even heard her. “Before it was Kaaras, but after, it was only ever you.”


	7. Chapter 7

_We are bound to each other's hearts,_  
_Cold, torn, and pulled apart_  
_This love, is like wildfire,_  
_And to my word now I'll be true,_  
_I can't stop this breaking loose_  
_This love, is like wildfire_

Anahera didn't wait for Thom to reply. She pushed up to her feet, ignored the want, deep in her belly. “I need to get back to Issa,” she said, then walked away. Making her way back along the path to the gate to Haven.

The guard ducked his head in a nod as she approached. “Not a sound from inside,” he told her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, then slipped inside. Issa lay in the center of the bed, sleeping soundly. Ana's mind went back to the future, to the not knowing what had happened to her. But Anahera would stop the Elder One. She wouldn't allow that future to come to pass. Climbing back onto the bed, she stretched out and immediately Issa curled her body against Anahera's own. 

Ana wondered what it would have been like to have had a child of her own. Would it have been a boy or a girl? The child would only have been about three years old now and Ana wouldn't have been at the conclave. If her child had lived, it wouldn't matter. It would have been taken to the Qun. The child would have been lost no matter what. They would never have allowed her to raise it, or even to see it had it survived. Closing her eyes tightly, Ana pressed a kiss to the top of Issa's head. 

 

Thom had been watching Anahera all day. He'd followed when they had gone to seal the breach. Had seen the toll it had taken on her. When she'd collapsed after the breach had surged with power, Thom had nearly run to her side. Cassandra beat him there, helped her to her feet. She'd smiled, reassured them, but Thom saw the strain on her face, seen the exhaustion in her eyes. She was not alright. But everyone thought she was. 

Returning to Haven, she'd immediately found Issa and hadn't let the girl out of her sight since. Even now, as she stood at the edge of the crowd, she watched Issa dance and play. Anahera flinched when the little girl approached Iron Bull and was lifted up onto his shoulder. Thom knew something had happened with the Qunari in the time between his last tryst with Ana at the bar, and her finding him in the Hinterlands. The new scars she bore were a testament to what she'd been through. He didn't imagine things would ever be easy between him and Anahera. Maybe too much time had passed, too much had changed. 

He'd been jealous, he couldn't deny it. The idea of her laying with someone else, letting someone else touch her, kiss her, trace the scars on her skin, made his chest feel tight. He wasn't fool enough to have thought she'd been celibate for the last four years. It was seeing the evidence of someone else touching her. He knew that he was never going to be good enough for her. She didn't know his past, Maker willing she never would.

Thom knew that he should leave. It would be better for Ana, wouldn't it? As if she knew what was going on in his head, she turned, eyes meeting his. He saw her surprise. She closed the distance and then leaned her shoulder against the opposite side of the door, mirroring his stance as he leaned with arms over his chest, against her door frame. 

“Thought you left,”

“Considered it,” he admitted, watching the celebrations. People danced, sang and drank. 

“What's keeping you here?” 

“I made a promise,” he told her.

“To who?”Ana tore her eyes away from Issa to look at Thom. 

He glanced at her, then away again. “Issa.” 

“Don't make promises you can't keep,” her tone was sharp. 

The cacophony of noise broke off their conversation and the party. Flurries of movement as people began to run and scream. Anahera lost sight of Issa and Iron Bull, and her heart lodged in her throat, when she finally spotted them again, the Iron Bull was passing Issa off to Mother Giselle and gesturing for her to head to the Chantry with many of the others. 

Thom was at her side, every step of the way as they fought against the Red Templars, and tried to launch the trebuchets. When the dragon appeared, he all but dragged Anahera back to the Chantry. Issa flung herself into Ana's arms, uncaring of the blood and dirt. “Love,” Ana murmured, pressing her lips against the girl's temple. “You must go with Josie,” she told her after they had come to the decision that Anahera would distract the Elder One and the dragon while everyone else escaped.

“Don't wanna!” she wailed. “You'll die like mama and papa.” 

Ana's heart bled. She couldn't promise that she wouldn't die. But she would not allow any harm to befall the girl. Thom appeared. “I'll take her,” he held his hands out and Anahera stared at him. 

“Go with Blackwall. He will keep you safe,” she said, her eyes locked on his. 

He nodded. “I'll protect her with my life,” he vowed and Anahera felt the ache in her chest grow wider, more vicious. 

“I'll catch up with you as soon as I can,” Anahera said, passing the girl over to Thom. Issa slid one arm around his neck but twisted, tears streamed down her cheeks, smearing the stripes of war paint on her face, her horns lost somewhere in the chaos. Anahera cupped Issa's face between her hands and ducked her head to press a kiss to the little girl's cheek. “Promise me you'll stay with Blackwall.” 

“Promise,” Issa sniffed. 

Anahera drew back, caught the look on Thom's face. She knew that if anything happened to her, Issa would be safe. Then she turned and rushed out of the Chantry. Iron Bull was at her side before she realized it, and she blinked at him. “What are you-”

“Always up for killing a dragon,” he said, and when Varric and Cassandra came up on Ana's other side, she held out a little hope that she might actually survive this. Before the Conclave, she had been more than ready for the end. The end of being a mercenary, the end of everything. But now, she had things to do. People to take care of and keep an eye out for. She couldn't just die.

 

It had been days since the attack at Haven. They had walked until the sun began to rise before finally stopping to make camp. Issa had slept with her head on Thom's shoulder as he'd stood with the others and watched the mountain crash down and wipe out the tiny village. _She couldn't have survived that, no one could_. People kept their whispers quiet, not allowing Issa to hear what had happened. A small search party had gone out, looked for her. Varric, Cassandra, and The Iron Bull had returned, but Anahera was nowhere to be found. They had packed up camp, and with heavy hearts, moved farther away before settling once again. No one knew what to do, or where to go. 

Issa had barely spoken and then three days later, she sat beside Thom, the small wooden griffin clutched in her hands. “Ana's dead, isn't she?” she asked, her voice small and tight.

Thom didn't know what to say. Most likely, it was true. She'd brought the mountain down on herself to save everyone in Haven. It would take a miracle for her to have survived. But hadn't she walked out of worse already?

“What happens to me now?” Issa asked, still keeping her head bowed. Another question Thom couldn't answer. He'd promised to protect Issa, with his life, if that is what it took. But past that? He had no idea what to do with a child. True, he was fond of the girl, but children were not something he was accustomed to. 

Resting his head in his hands, Thom closed his eyes. He wouldn't fail Ana. Hadn't he already in some way? The years since their last meeting at that pub had not been kind. Despite her wariness with him, she trusted him enough to care for the little girl that he knew Ana loved with all her heart. “We'll figure it out,” Thom said, turning his face to look at Issa, he rested his hand over hers. His big rough hand dwarfing her tiny, dirt-smudged ones. “Together.” Finally, she tipped her face up to his, tears shining in her eyes. 

Thom gathered her into his arms and held her in his lap as she sobbed. He felt a lump build up in his own throat. He should have gone with her. Been at her side. Made sure that she got back to Issa. He'd held the girl as she cried herself to sleep, then tucked her into her bedroll in the tent they shared before going to track down Cullen, Cassandra, Josephine, and Leliana. 

“Solas knows of a place to the north,” Leliana said. “We'll pack up at daybreak.”

“Has there been any sign of her?” Thom asked.

Cullen shook his head. “Our last search party returned about an hour ago.” 

Thom gave a jerky nod, then headed back to the tent. He stretched out on the bedroll beside Issa and stared up at the canvas overhead. Just like that, everyone had given up hope. He knew Anahera was dead. Couldn't imagine how she'd have managed to survive. In the morning, when they all packed up to head north, he would return to Haven. Or what was left of it. He had to see. Witness it for himself. Know that she couldn't have survived. Then he'd return, and try to figure out what he was supposed to do with the little girl he was tied to because of Anahera. 

 

“You promised!” Issa yelled, tiny balled fist striking Thom in the thigh. “Together! You can't go without me!” 

“Issa,” he said, catching her small hands as he crouched down in front of her. “It isn't safe. You'll go with Lady Cassandra and Lady Josephine and the others, and I will catch up.” 

“No!” Angry tears rolled down Issa's cheeks. Her jaw was clenched tight and her nostrils flared. “You promised,” she said through gritted teeth.

And if they found Anahera's body? Thom dropped his head, sighed. “Alright,” he relented. “Alright. We'll go together.” 

“Blackwall, you can't be serious, it isn't-” 

He looked up at Cassandra, who looked between the two, opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again. “Let's make sure you have everything you'll need.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been struggling with this bit. I'm still not sure I'm happy.

The first night Thom and Issa set up camp on their journey back to Haven, both were quiet as they sat beside the fire and ate dinner. “It's late,” Thom said a while later. “You should go to bed.” 

Issa looked up at him, then ducked her head and slumped her shoulders. Thom didn't know what to say, or what to do. He reached up and rubbed his jaw, scratching his beard. “Maker's balls,” he muttered and then heard Issa let out a quiet giggle.

She peeked at him again. “Ana says that-” she cut off abruptly and rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand. “You don't really want me, do you?” she asked, staring at the fire. “You only said it because you promised Ana. It's okay. I'm sorry I made you bring me. I should have- should have stayed with Lady Josephine.” 

It was a kick to the gut, and made Thom feel like a royal bastard. Issa had been through more than anyone, let alone a child, should have to go though. He pushed up to his feet then crossed to kneel in front of her. Cupping her face between his hands, he wiped away the tears on her cheeks. “I've never had children, Issa,” he told her honestly. “I have been alone a long time. You'll have to teach me. I made a promise, to you, to Ana,” he'd also promised to keep Anahera safe, hadn't he? He'd failed to do that. 

 

Haven was gone. Nothing left of the tiny village. Issa held Thom's hand as they looked out over the bare landscape. Thom wasn't sure what he had expected to find. Maybe Anahera could have dug her way out of the avalanche. Found some way to escape. But in the weeks time since the attack, he knew if the scouts hadn't found any sign of her, she was likely entombed in the snow covering Haven. 

“Are we going to meet the others at Skyhold?” Issa asked after a long while.

They should, Thom thought. He should help finish what Ana had been the standing stone of. “What do you want to do?” he asked Issa.

She wanted Anahera, alive and well and reading her bedtime stories. Blackwall was trying though, she thought. Because he'd promised Ana. “Where were you before you joined the Inquisition?”

“The Hinterlands.”

“Me too,” Issa said. With the mean lady, who hadn't liked Issa one bit. 

Thom looked down at the top of her head, her black hair all in knots. What would Ana have wanted? Issa safe and far from danger? Or for him to stay and help save the world? They'd have to go to Skyhold first, no matter what. To let the others know what they had found, or rather, not found. “Come on, let's go.” He boosted Issa up onto the nugalope and they began making their way back from where they'd come. 

A few hours passed before Thom decided they should find a place to camp soon. In the distance he spotted a dark shape between the trees. A cabin, he thought. Abandoned like so many others across Thedas. They could check it out, if it was still solid, they'd camp there for the night. The door was halfway open, a dark stain smeared low on the door. “Stay here,” he told Issa when she moved to slide down from the saddle. He turned, fixed his eyes on her. “Don't get down until I tell you to.” 

“But-” she started. 

Thom pointed a finger at her. “I mean it, Issa. Don't you dare get down from this mount until I tell you it's okay.” 

She held his gaze for several moments then nodded. “Okay,” she nodded. 

Thom watched her for a few seconds longer, then turned to the door. His mind went back to the scene he'd found all those years ago. Knew it was too much to hope for, that he'd find Anahera on the other side of the door. At least, not alive. Likely it was a wounded animal. Pushing open the door, he quickly scanned the room, saw nothing. He stepped into the room and nearly tripped over the body on the floor. 

Dropping to his knees, he stared at her. It was impossible. He yanked off his glove and cupped her face. “Fuck,” he breathed out. “Ana.” She was cold, lips tinged blue. Thom's eyes burned and he leaned his head down, pressed his forehead against hers. How had the scouts not found her? How long had she been there? How long had it taken for her to die? He couldn't let Issa see her like this, but he couldn't just leave her. 

A hand touched his side and Thom jerked up, ready to yell at Issa, but it wasn't her hand. “Maker's balls,” he rasped out. Anahera's eyes were cracked open, her hand weakly curled in the fabric at his waist. “Issa!” Thom yelled, not taking his eyes from Ana's face. “Bring my leather pack.” He stroked his thumb along her lips, watched them part as she mouthed his name. “You're a fucking miracle, Ana. Don't you fucking dare die on me. Do you hear me? Not after all this.” 

Her jaw trembled, and he saw a tear slip from the corner of her eye. Thom's own vision went blurry for a moment and he blinked rapidly, then used the back of one hand to wipe away his own tears. Then Issa was there, clutching the bag to her chest, looking terrified. “What- Ana!” 

Catching the bag before she dropped it, Thom fished through it, found the vial he wanted, and watched as Issa ran around to Anahera's other side and dropped down to her knees beside her. Issa's hands hovered, afraid to touch. Then Ana reached up and took hold of the girl's hand. Issa doubled over, pressing her face to Ana's palm as she sobbed. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Thom shifted, slipped a hand behind Anahera's head. “Drink this,” he told her. It seemed to take forever for her to get the tonic down. “Stay with her,” Thom told Issa, though he knew the little girl wouldn't go anywhere. He stood up, went to the hearth and built a fire, then found a bucket that he filled with snow and shoved into the edge of the fire to heat it. 

“How badly are you hurt?” he asked, leaning his face close to hers. 

The corner of her mouth twisted into a grimace. “Bad,” she managed out. 

“Serves you right,” he said, not meaning it. “Issa's been worried sick.” The little girl had stopped crying and sat holding Anahera's hand in her lap. 

Ana turned her face to Issa, gave the girl's hand a squeeze. “Sorry, sweetheart. You've been taking care of Blackwall for me?”

Issa nodded. “He's been grumpy,” she said conspiratorially. 

“He always is,” Ana told her. 

Thom made a quiet sound, and shot the two a look. “Come on,” he said, carefully slipping a hand under Anahera's back. “Let's get you closer to the fire. You're frozen solid. Issa, grab the blankets from the pack.” Issa leaped to her feet and rushed to where Thom had set the other bags beside the door. 

“Thom,” Ana's voice broke and she pressed her face into his throat as he slid his other arm under her knees and lifted. She whimpered, and Thom could feel the warm, wet tears against his skin. He carried her the short distance to the fire and was careful as he set her back down, propped against his chest. 

“Drink another one,” he said, pressing another vial of healing potion to her lips. 

Anahera turned her face away, grabbed his hand and pressed it into her side. She was barely able to stifle the cry of pain as his fingers found the gash. “It won't heal,” she told him. 

_Shit_ , he thought. Poisoned weapon? “Issa, check the bucket of water, is it hot?” He drew the small knife from its sheath after rolling Ana to lay on her uninjured side. 

“I think so,” she said, peering into the pail.

“Don't burn yourself,” Ana told her. “Hey,” she said, a smile spreading across her face. “You promised to tell me a story.” 

Issa looked at Blackwall and Anahera's faces. She could see the worry in Blackwall's eyes, knew Ana was trying to distract her. “I'll tell you one now,” Issa said, crawling to sit by Ana's head. Her hair was matted with blood and dirt and leaves. She pulled it out of the way and tried to think of one of the stories her mama used to tell her. Issa began to tell the story and Ana's eyes slid shut while Blackwall, began to cut away her shirt. 

There was a lot of blood. Dark and thick and coating her skin and clothes. Blackwall found a rag and used the hot water to clean it. Anahera began to cry when he poured one of the vials in the cut that ran from just below her arm to her hip. Issa kept speaking, one story bleeding into another. Blackwall stitched the wound shut with neat, perfect stitches like when mama patched up her clothes. 

Issa's throat hurt from trying not to start crying again. Blackwall bandaged the wound, made Ana drink another vial of liquid before he cupped the back of Issa's head and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “She's asleep, it's okay,” he told her and finally the tears began to roll down Issa's face again. She threw her arms around him and pressed her face into his shoulder as she cried. “Shh,” he murmured, one hand rubbing her back, the other resting against her head. “She'll be okay, you did good.” 

After a while, Thom set Issa away from him and wiped the tears from her face. “I'm proud of you, I couldn't have done that without your help.” Thom pulled food from his back and insisted Issa eat, before spreading out a blanket between Anahera and the fire. “Get some rest.” 

She shook her head. “Ana needs to be closer to the fire, she's still cold.” 

“Hm, Issa,” Ana murmured, held out her hand. “Come here, sweetheart. Lay with me.” Issa couldn't resist, she curled up in front of Ana, being careful of her injuries. After a few moments, Ana slid her arm around Issa, tugged her closer and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Sleep.” 

Thom pulled the other blanket from the pack and carefully spread it out over the two before he sat behind Anahera to watch over them as they slept. “Thom,” Anahera spoke some time later.

“Hush, go back to sleep,” he told her, reaching for another one of the potions. 

Anahera pushed the tonic away when he held it toward her. “Lay with me,” she murmured softly.

“Ana, you're hurting, you're-”

“I miss you, Thom.” Those words shut him up. She'd turned her face up to look at him. “Please, hold me.” 

He knew that by the time the pain tonic wore off she'd regret her words. She'd inevitably go back to hating him. Stretching out behind her, he slid his arm beneath her head, and pressed his body close to hers. “Only if you'll go back to sleep,” he said gruffly, pressing a kiss against her bare shoulder before tugging the blanket back up around her. 

It only seemed to take seconds for her breathing to even out again as she slipped back off to sleep. Thom pressed his face against her hair, smelled the blood and dirt, and closed his eyes. He felt himself relax with the knowledge that she was alive and safe.


	9. Chapter 9

_But won't you let me be your man?_   
_I'm strong enough you know that I can_   
_Be the one to ease your mind_   
_And I can understand_   
_All I need is your hand_   
_Oh, won't you take the fall?_   
_It is me after all_

Anahera was still in pain when they finally arrived at Skyhold. She'd stood on the landing, been named Inquisitor, to uproarious applause, despite being filthy, and clad in torn pants and one of Thom's shirts that was far too tight across her chest. In the front of the crowd, Issa had sat on Thom's shoulders and cheered with the others. Both looking so proud it made her heart ache.

Now, she sat on a stool beside the steaming bathtub, staring longingly at the hot water. She wanted nothing more than to fall into the water, let the heat permeate her skin, but she knew she'd regret it. So instead, Anahera just sat there, fingertips skimming the top as she waited for the water to go cold. 

A soft rustle of fabric had her looking up to see Thom standing at the top of the stairs. “You'll get cleaner if you get in the water.” He rested his hip against the banister and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Hmm, that is what I've heard,” she said, resting her cheek on the rim of the tub. 

“Did a healer take a look at that cut?” Thom asked and Anahera nodded.

“All my injuries are healing nicely, they applauded your skill.” Ana pushed up from the edge of the tub and crossed to the desk, sighed inwardly at stacks of paper piled on top. Well, it would be something for her to do while she waited for the water to cool. She sunk into the chair with a wince and glanced back at Thom, who hadn't moved.

He just stood there watching her with furrowed brow. “I didn't mean to interrupt, I'll let you get cleaned up.” 

Anahera waved her hand dismissively. “It doesn't matter, you're fine. The water is too hot,” she said, shifting a stack of papers to the center of the desk. How would she wash her hair? She wondered. Most likely she'd have to have someone help her, the gash on her back and the broken ribs limited her movement. One of the servants? 

Thom dipped his hand into the water and scowled. “You used to like your baths hotter than this,” he said, wiping his hand on the towel sitting on the table beside the tub. 

A smile turned up the corner of her mouth at the memory of the baths she'd shared with Thom all those years ago. “Things change,” she told him sadly. “You've seen the scars,” she found a pen and absently tapped at a piece of paper with it. “Not all of them, but you've seen the ones on my back. The water, it hurts.” The words came so easily, after trying to hide the truth from him for months.

She could see him out of her peripheral vision, standing just on the other side of the desk. “That's why you would bathe in the lake.” 

“The cold water soothed the pain,” she told him with a shrug. “I'll clean up just as soon as the water cools down.” 

“I'll wash your hair for you.” Ana looked up quickly, watched Thom look away before meeting her gaze again. “You won't be able to do it without help until you've healed some more.” 

“Okay,” she nodded, stood and crossed back to the tub. Thom went down onto his knees beside the tub and patted the stool. Anahera didn't move for several moments, then sunk down on the stool, her back to the tub. Her eyes slipped shut as Thom rested one hand against the back of her neck, the other on her shoulder and leaned her against the edge of the tub. 

 

Thom braced her weight against his thigh as he worked the soap into her hair. Her eyes were closed, hands resting, fingers laced, together on her stomach. He couldn't remember having seen her so relaxed in a long time. Not since he'd joined the Inquisition. Thom took his time washing her hair, enjoying the quiet moment. 

Knowing he couldn't draw it out any longer, he squeezed the water from her hair and then wrapped it in a towel. “The water is cool enough now, I think,” he told her. He helped her sit up and watched her dip her fingers in the water. 

“It is,” she murmured. 

“Then I'll leave-” He moved to stand, but Anahera reached out and caught his hand with hers.

“Wait,” she said quietly. “Would you-” she glanced away and closed her eyes. “I-” 

When had things become so difficult between them? Once upon a time, there had been no shyness, no apprehension. She would have boldly told him to stay, he also wouldn't have been so eager to leave. Thom crouched down in front of her, met her gaze before he reached up to begin unfastening the buttons of the shirt she wore. He pushed the shirt off her shoulders and tossed it aside, then froze at the sight of the scars that covered her chest, stomach, and arms. He knew there were more, he'd seen the scatterings of them over her back. But seeing them clearly, lit up by the brightly burning hearth. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out, reached out and traced a fingertip along the edge of the thick scar that ran from one shoulder to the other. “Ana,” his voice wavered. Thin scars branched out all across her torso from that one wide scar. He couldn't begin to comprehend the pain she must have been in. 

“The Ben-Hassrath found me when I was on my way to meet back up with the Valo-Kas.” 

Thom ran a hand over his mouth. He'd suspected as much, but for her to finally admit it, for him to see the evidence of it. He felt sick. _Never should have left her,_ he thought. As if he would have stood more of a chance against a group of Qunari than Anahera had. Thom felt the sudden urge to do violence. Anahera could take care of herself, she was strong, but she hadn't been able to fend off the Qunari who would collar her and control her. 

He grabbed the washcloth and dunked it in the water and motioned for Ana to turn her back to him. As gently as he could, he began to wash her back, wiping away days old dirt and blood. “They didn't break you,” he finally managed past the lump in his throat. 

Anahera didn't reply at first. “Yes, they did. I wished I'd died for a long time,” she murmured quietly. Thom pressed his forehead against the back of his shoulder and clenched his eyes shut. The words took his breath away and made his chest uncomfortably tight. When he had left her that last morning, he'd never imagined she'd be captured and tortured. He washed her back, her arms, her chest, then guided her to stand and after a moment's hesitation, he slid her pants down her legs. 

Naked and beautiful. He ignored the erection growing in his trousers and did his best not to stop and linger. He guided her to sit back down, ran the damp washcloth down one thigh and back up the other. Thom wanted nothing more than to trace her with his tongue. Explore every part of her body, worship and relearn every scar.

She turned on the stool, cupped his face, stroked her fingers over his beard. “I like it,” she said, rubbing her fingertips against the coarse hair. “Be my lover again, Thom.” 

“Ana,” he started, shaking his head.

“Make love to me, Thom,” she breathed, leaning in to nuzzle his throat while slipping one leg over his hip.

“Fuck,” he muttered. 

“That too.”

“No,” he protested. “You're hurt,” his hands went to her thighs, but instead of pushing her away, he tugged her closer still.

Anahera reached over, grabbed one of the vials that held one of the pain relieving tonics. She tugged off the cork and tipped her head back and downed the contents before tossing the vial over her shoulder. “I want you, I need you.” She ran her tongue along the skin between collar and beard, tasted the salt of his skin. 

“You're not in your right mind,” he said, palming her ass, pulling her closer to press his cock against the soft spot between her thighs, causing her to moan. “You'll regret this, you'll hate me.” 

She lifted her head, held his face and pressed her forehead against his. “I regret pushing you away. I regret being angry with you. I hate that I let you leave me that morning all those years ago.” 

Thom stared into her eyes. “You blamed me?” he asked, voice soft. 

“I wanted you to save me,” her voice cracked. “It was unfair of me. I hated that you didn't know, that you didn't come for me. But I knew there was no way for you to know.” He pulled back and she let him go. He paced away from her and Anahera reached for the large towel and held it to her chest, in some vain attempt to keep her heart from breaking. She tipped her head down. “It's fine Thom, you don't owe me anything. You never have. If anyone owes something it's me. How many times have you saved my life now?” 

She pushed up to her feet, wrapped the towel around herself and looked at Thom. He stood in front of the fire, his back to her, a shadow against the flames. “Just say the word, and if it's in my power I'll see that you have whatever it is you want. If I can't see to it personally, I'm sure Josie can make it happen.” Maker, but she didn't know what the man wanted. All those years ago, it had been easy. Why couldn't it still be that way? Because somewhere along the line she'd fallen for him, hadn't she? Because he'd saved her? No. That was what had brought them together, but that wasn't why she cared. She'd seen him at his lowest, the drunk man on the bar stool with a chip the size of Par Vollen on his shoulder. Now he was a Warden who had done so much good.

Anahera still didn't know what had sent him running that day that he found her. It didn't matter to her. She reached up and rubbed her forehead, her head beginning to throb despite the potion she'd drunk. “I'm sorry, Thom. I shouldn't have.” There was so much that she 'shouldn't have.' If she hadn't pushed him away that first night and then continued to do so over the past months, things might be different.

 

“You,” he said and turned around to look at her. She'd wrapped herself in a towel and she looked exhausted. Of course, she was. She'd nearly died and hadn't had any time to rest before they'd made their way to Skyhold. “You are what I want.” He watched her brow furrow and she gave her head a little shake. “I've wanted you since I left you at the pub.” She sunk down on the edge of the bed and looked at him. “You pushed me away.” 

Anahera bowed her head, shoulders slumping. “I know.” 

“Why?”

“I told you, I was angry. I blamed you. I know I had no right-” she said angrily, raising her head she glared at him. “I know it wasn't your fault, but I-” a tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. “I was pregnant.” 

The words were like a blow to the back of the head. Thom stood there, stunned, just staring at her. She wiped away another tear and glanced away. “I didn't know.” She touched the thick scar on one wrist. A shackle. “If they'd known, they wouldn't have done anything to me, just returned me to Par Vollen, where they would have taken my child and then I would have been rehabilitated. But they didn't know and I wouldn't stop fighting.” She tipped her face up to meet his gaze. “I stopped fighting after that.” 

Thom stared at her. There was a pressure crushing his chest. He couldn't breathe or think for that matter. He just stared at her. 

“I told you,” she started. “The future you, when Dorian and I-” she waved her hand. “I think you were angry with me. Because I'd never told you, but it doesn't make any difference. Telling you, not telling you? It changes nothing,” she bit out the words and stood up. “I wish I didn't know. I wish that I'd been too far gone. I'd wished for death, begged for it.” Angrily, she wiped away the tear that rolled down her cheek. “Then I was the Harold, and then I found Issa, then you. I never deserved either of you. Maker, she amazes me, every single day. Then you,” she looked at him, still standing there staring at her. “I don't-” she broke off. 

The door downstairs opened. “Inquisitor,” a voice called quick footsteps. “It took work, but Lady Josephine found- Oh.” The woman stopped at the top of the stairs, looked between Anahera, clad only in a towel, and Thom standing in front of the fire, damp shirt sticking to his arms and chest. “I'll just leave these here,” she said, setting the stack of clothes she held on the small couch before she fled back down the stairs. 

Anahera was quite certain she'd never been so glad for clothing before in her life. She crossed the room and sunk down on the couch to flip through the clothes. She felt too exposed. She'd told him everything, and had barely gotten a reaction. She imagined she would have been better off keeping her mouth shut. Finding a shirt she hoped would fit, she scowled at the lack of buttons and rose it up over her head. 

She sucked in a sharp breath when suddenly the shirt was taught around her wrists, and Thom stood in front of her. He cupped her chin with his free hand, tipping her face up. The barely-there kiss he brushed over her mouth had her arching toward him, but he didn't give her more. Anahera blinked up at him when he finally drew back enough for her to look at him. He caught the tear that escaped from the corner of her eye. “Nothing will ever be easy between us, will it?” he asked. 

“No,” she murmured. “I don't think it will.” 

Thom made a quiet sound and gave a little nod of his head before nudging Anahera back against the arm of the couch. He rested his weight on one knee beside her hip, before he claimed her mouth with his.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there is some smut. It's meh. I'm sorry.

She felt claimed. Devoured. His hands were gentle, one cupping her cheek, the other sliding down to tug the towel open. It took a few moments to free her hands from the shirt behind her head, but once she'd tossed it aside, she reached for him, drew him closer.

Thom went willingly but kept most of his weight off of her. His hand continued it's journey south and stroked over her belly, her hip, then along her thigh. He traced her skin, memorized every new scar. He wanted to savor her, but Ana's hands were impatient. She tugged at his trousers, freed him and curled her fist around his cock. “In me,” she begged. “Please.” 

“Fuck, Ana,” Thom groaned when she rubbed the tip of his dick through her wet heat. Anahera arched, rocking her hips and he couldn't, didn't want to, resist, and slid home. Tight, wet heat engulfed him and he knew in that moment he could die a happy man. Until he saw the tear roll down Ana's cheek. “What's wrong?” he asked, hand coming up to brush the wetness away. “I hurt you, shit,” he looked at her, knew he'd been careful of her injuries, but obviously not careful enough.

“No,” she gripped his hips with her thighs, her hands fisted in his shirt before she began tugging at it, desperate to have it off, to feel his skin. “I'm fine, you're not hurting me. I just-” her breath hitched. “I missed you,” the words came out barely a whisper. He stared at her for several long moments, then helped her pull his shirt off, tossed it over his shoulder, before he carefully hooked his arm behind her knee, opened her up more to him and pushed in deeper. 

“Yes!” Ana cried out, back arching. He kept his strokes slow and steady, filling her again and again. Her nails dug into his biceps as she tried to pull him closer, hold him tighter. Ducking his head down, he wrapped his lips around one of her nipples, felt her clench tighter around him, the sound of pleasure she made nearly enough to push him over the edge. He wanted to hear that sound again and again. All night long. 

Only after she came did he help her to the bed, massaged a salve into the scars, before he pressed his face between her thighs and feasted on every cry, moan and gasp. He didn't resist when she tugged on his hair, beckoning him up the length of her body once more. Thom pushed inside, swallowed her moan and took his time, pushing her to the precipice. 

 

Thom sat up on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. The only sound in the room Ana's soft breaths as she slept. He knew he'd kept her up too long, far too late. But he couldn't stop touching her More than half afraid that come morning she would change her mind about him. So he had rung every exhausted moan and pleasured cry from her that he could. 

She had been pregnant. A child. Thom had never given thought to children. Not before, when he'd been a captain in Celene's army. Not after the massacre. His only thought to children had been due to Issa. He didn't know what to feel. There was anger, on Anahera's behalf, for all the pain she had suffered. But beyond that, he felt nothing, which told him plenty about himself. He wasn't worthy of Ana. 

How could a man feel nothing about his own child? Anahera felt, mourned the loss and still felt the pain of it. How could Thom give her any less? The woman meant damn near everything to him. He wanted to believe that fate or the Maker had brought them together time and time again, but that only happened to good people, and Thom was far from that.

No, he imagined it was his punishment. Time and time again he would be brought to this woman, but he would never get to have her, to be hers, for the long haul. The realization made his chest ache. He rubbed a hand over the center of his chest, willing away the tightness. “Thom,” Anahera murmured drowsily, and Thom glanced over his shoulder at her. The sheet was draped part way over her hip, the rest of her gloriously naked body a contrast against the pale cream colored sheets. “Come hold me,” she said, eyes cracking open as she held a hand out to him.

“Ana,” he started, knowing it would only make leaving hurt that much more, but he also knew he would never be able to deny her anything she asked for.

“Please, love,” her eyes fluttered shut again, her hand still reaching out to him. 

Thom shifted, lifted her hand to his mouth, where he kissed the back of her hand, then her palm, careful of the sensitive mark in the center of her palm. He brushed his lips up her arm, saw the faint smile on her lips before he claimed them softly. “Anything,” he told her, voice quiet and gruff with sincerity. He gathered her against him and relaxed into her returned embrace. 

He knew he'd meet his maker someday, probably soon, and she was the one thing for him. He would do everything in his power to see that she was happy. 

 

When Anahera woke the the sun filtering into the room, she'd actually been surprised to find Thom still in bed with her. She lay sprawled across the bed, Thom on his stomach beside her, his arm draped over her waist, face turned toward her. It reminded her of those very first days in the cabin. But she didn't think she'd ever seen him so relaxed. 

She really did like the beard, the faint streaks of silver struck a cord inside her. She didn't think she'd ever found a man so devastatingly handsome before. “My lady,” he grumbled quietly, cracking one eye. “You're staring.” 

“I seem to have a most beautiful man in my bed, and I'm so overwhelmed with ideas of what I want to do with him-” 

His cheeks turned pink and Anahera couldn't help the smile the creased her cheeks. After all, they had done, a compliment had him blushing? “My lady,” he started.

“Thom.”

“Ana,” he sighed, pushing up onto one elbow. 

“Is it your turn now?” she asked him, pushing up into a sitting position.

“My turn?” His brow furrowed and he followed, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. 

Reaching back, Ana tugged the sheet up and around herself. “To push me away. I've done it to you for months-” 

Thom caught her hand, fingers skimmed the scar on her wrist before he slid his fingers between hers and squeezed. “No games, Anahera. You deserve better, you should find better.”

She shook her head. “Don't be stupid,” Ana told him, then she straddled his thighs and claimed his mouth. His hands went to her hips and he kissed her back with equal fervor. It didn't take long before she shifted her hips, took him inside and rode him slow. Tongues tangled, and Thom wrapped her hair around his fist. 

“Most beautiful fucking woman,” he grunted. 

“How many?” she asked, breathless.

“How many what?” 

“Women,” she was genuinely curious. Wasn't sure if she would be jealous or not. Yes, she would, she thought. She rotated her hips, felt him rub against a spot inside that had her whimpering. 

“I'm not going to-”

She rotated her hips again, squeezed. “How many?”

Thom groaned, tugged on her hair, and then reached up and lightly pinched one of her nipples. “None.”

“You don't have to lie,” she told him, arching into his hand while she let her fingernails rake lightly over his chest. “I promise I won't have them killed.” 

“Not a single fucking one,” he told her, tugging her head down to press his forehead against hers. “Not since you.” 

Ana went still, stared into his eyes and saw the honesty there. “Oh,” she breathed, felt her eyes burn. She knew it wasn't because of her that he'd been celibate, but rather his duty as the Warden Blackwall. She wanted to claim this man, for him to be hers and hers alone. Anahera knew the impossibility. She was the Inquisitor now, so much work left undone as they tried to defeat Corypheus. 

Finally, she began to move again, their foreheads still resting together. Orgasm swept over them nearly simultaneously, and for a long while, they stayed like that. Reluctantly Anahera let Thom tuck her back into bed, he kissed her before going for his clothes. “Will you check on Issa?” she asked him.

Thom glanced over his shoulder. “Of course,” he said. The little girl was staying with the elvhen couple who had originally agreed to take her in. Issa had apologized to them for running away and asked if she could be friends with their son. They had been relieved and welcomed her with open arms, offering to let her stay until Issa's room below Anahera's was finished.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. That's all it is. Smut. And a few feelings too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so stuck with this part for months. I have the next big part of the story all planned out in my head, but couldn't focus enough to get to that point. So here, have some Adaar/Blackwall porn and emotions.

“Never took you for a family man,” Dorian said as he came up to where Thom stood off to the side of the makeshift dance floor. 

The words caught Thom off guard, made him pause. He glanced over to Anahera and Issa, for whom the party was for. Her birthday. She'd been sad she wasn't allowed to attend the ball at Halamshiral, so between Josephine, Leliana, and Ana, they had put together a ball that put Halamshiral to shame. Issa wore the fluffiest pink dress one could imagine, and Ana was dressed far sleeker in a golden silk gown that hugged her curves and dipped low in the back.

Thom had been surprised at first, she'd always hidden her scars before. But over the last months, she'd stopped hiding them. Her hair was curled and pinned up from her face. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. 

She met his gaze, smiled, and Maker, he loved the woman. His heart clenched in his chest and absently he reached up to rub his hand over it. Issa skipped across the floor, grabbed onto his hand, tugging him from his thought. “Come dance with me.” Unable to deny her, he let her drag him out onto the floor. 

“Issa, I'm not very good at this,” he told her, and she just turned to face him, took both of his hands and began to sway to the beat of the music. She didn't care that he just stood there and held her hands. She just wanted him there with her. When he released one of her hands and spun her in a circle, she giggled and then threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. 

“Mind if we cut in?” Anahera asked walking up to the two. Dorian held a hand out to Issa who was more than happy to switch partners. Thom rested one hand on Anahera's hip, the other laid over the hand she rested on his chest. The music was slow, and they swayed to it. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight,” Thom said, voice low, making heat pool low in Ana's belly. 

“Hm,” she murmured, leaning in to rest her cheek against his shoulder. “Maybe, once or twice.” He'd said it with words, he'd said it with his eyes every time he looked at her. Ana had never felt so beautiful, she thought she might explode. His fingers began to dance up her spine, causing her to shiver. 

Hearing Issa's giggle had her turning her head to watch her as she continued to dance with Dorian. “It is past her bedtime,” Ana said with a sigh. 

“It's her birthday,” Thom murmured against Ana's ear.

“You get to put her to bed, she's loaded up on cake and sweets. I saw Sera sneaking her more after I'd said she was done.” It had been impossible to be annoyed. Anahera felt happy for the first time in a long time. These people of the Inquisition had become family. She adored them, cherished them and knowing that they were walking into more and more danger terrified her.

Thom pressed a kiss to her throat, calloused fingers dipping under the edge of her gown. “Alright, but then I want to strip you out of this dress, slowly, and you have to just sit back and let me do what I want.”

“Bedtime, now,” she choked out and felt his chuckle, more than heard it. Ana turned her face, nuzzled his jaw, liked the scratch of his beard against her lips. “You don't even have to ask, Thom.” 

He squeezed her tighter. “I know.” 

 

It was hours later when Anahera finally put her foot down and put an end to the party. Issa was barely upright but protested nonetheless. When Thom had picked her up, she'd immediately wrapped her arms and legs around her, laid her head on his shoulder and fallen asleep. Thom had carried the girl upstairs to her room, and Anahera had continued up to her own. She sat at her small vanity table, releasing the pins from her hair. Thom had said he wanted to undress her, so she took her time, waiting. 

It wasn't too long before she heard the door close downstairs, and then the steady fall of his footsteps. He stopped at the landing and just looked at her. “What?” Anahera asked, brow furrowing. “Is Issa-” She moved as if to stand, but Thom held up his hand.

“She's fine, we had to bargain on how many stories I'd tell her.” Anahera grinned. “She fell asleep before I'd even gotten halfway through the first.” 

“And here I thought she'd fight it and be up all night on a sugar-high.” 

Thom slowly crossed the room toward her and Anahera looked up as he came to stand between her thighs. “Maker,” he breathed, fingers stroking her jaw, down her throat. “I don't know how I got so lucky,” he said and sunk down to his knees. 

She slipped her fingers into his beard, tugged a little. “I think the same thing every damn day.” 

Thom met her gaze, held it for long moments, then she felt his fingers at her ankles, catching the hem of her dress. He inched it up, slowly, letting his palms drag up her calves, over her knees, and to her thighs. He stopped, hands resting on the outsides of her thighs, and looked up at her. 

Anahera shifted on the stool, spread her legs wider, making room for him and causing the dress to slide up a bit more. “I'm all yours, Thom,” she told him, voice soft, but sincere.

He caught the back of her head with one hand, fingers tangling in her curls and he pulled her mouth to his, hard. It was a sharp contrast to his earlier ministrations that Anahera's head spun. She clung to him, fingers curling in the front of his shirt, her legs hooking over his hips, desperate to have him closer. Thom broke the kiss, pressed his forehead to hers and the only sound was their ragged breathing for several long moments. The hand that Thom didn't have in her hair was still on her thigh, a gentle touch, with rough fingers. “Don't distract me,” he grumbled and Anahera's mouth twisted into a grin. “I told you, I'm going to peel you out of this dress.” 

“I'm not stopping you, love.” She leaned in, nipped his earlobe, heard him groan before he gave her hair a light tug. Her breath hitched, and her thighs clenched around him. Thom's hands went down to her legs and he made her unwind them from his waist, which pained them both. But then his hands dipped under the dress again, slid up to her hips and Thom went to tug down her smalls and found them already gone. “Couldn't wear them with the dress,” she told him, sounding a bit breathless. “Could see them right through the fabric.”

Thom let out a low groan, leaned down and sank his teeth into the soft curve of her inner thigh. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, but would leave a mark. Her hands were in his hair, a soft gasp escaping her lips. “All night,” he said low, laving the spot he'd bitten. “You've been dancing around all night long without any smalls on.” His mouth shifted a fraction higher, closer to where she desperately wanted him. 

“I thought about telling you, but then-” then his mouth was on her and the words turned into a low moan as he pushed his tongue into her. 

“Fuck, Ana, you're so wet already,” Thom's words were muffled against her flesh and they sent delicious vibrations through her sensitive flesh. She tangled her fingers in his hair and held on as he lapped at her, over and over, his tongue only barely grazing her clit every couple of passes. 

Thom slipped one arm under her thigh, lifted it to drape over his shoulder, and when she teetered backward on the stool he turned her slightly, so her back pressed against the table. She felt consumed. “Thom,” it was a soft cry. Her hand gripped the edge of her vanity, tight. Her head fell back, she stared blindly up at the ceiling. Nothing existed in that moment except for Thom. His mouth shifted up, finally, his tongue swept over her clit, over and over, and two thick fingers pushed inside of her. Pleasure raced through her, and she arched, crying out. Distantly she heard breaking glass, realized her hand had slipped, knocking the contents of the table onto the floor. 

He didn't stop. He kept up the mind-numbing pleasure, fingers thrusting in and out of her, rubbing just the right spot while his tongue soothed her clit, so sensitive it didn't take much coercion before she was flying again. The cry was broken off as she had enough presence of mind to slap her hand over her mouth. 

When she finally came back to herself, Thom was still on his knees, lips pressing soft kisses against her thighs, her belly, nuzzling the crease of her thigh. Her breathing hitched and Ana slipped her hand into his hair again. He paused, looked up at her and she could see the satisfaction in his gaze. “You're an evil man,” she muttered, felt his lips turn up against her skin. 

“I've only just started,” he told her, and Anahera whimpered. 

It had been months since the events at Haven, and their subsequent reconciliation. Since then, they had shared a bed nearly every night. Thom had fought at her side through everything. Red Templars, the corrupted Wardens, demons. She wasn't sure what had gotten into him tonight, but it made her heart swell. She took his face between her palms, pressed her lips to his, tasting herself on his tongue as he kissed her back languidly. 

“Love,” she murmured and moaned softly as his hands slid up her arms to hook on the straps of her dress. She'd called him Lover for such a long time, but he'd always been so much more. Anahera met his heated gaze as he slid the straps down her arms. 

“The most beautiful woman I have ever known,” he said, and despite everything, she blushed. He stroked her breasts, fingers cupping the weight of them, thumbing over her dark nipples. 

“I bet you say that to all the half-naked women-” her words cut off when mouth closed over her breast and he closed his teeth ever so gently around one of her nipples. 

“Always so mouthy,” he muttered kissing a path to her other breast where he gave it the same treatment.

“Let me show you just how mouthy I can be.” 

Thom groaned low, gripped her hips and tugged her forward to grind his cock, hard and thick behind his pants against her wet core. He leaned in and kissed her ear. “Do you want me inside of you?” he rasped and she nodded, almost frantically, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Damn it, you've got too many clothes on!” she tried to tug on them, but he caught her hands and tugged them behind her back. Anahera blinked at him, chest heaving.

“You said I could do whatever I wanted,” he said, voice a gruff rumble that went straight to her clit.

Anahera nodded her head quickly. “Yes.” He drew back, pushed up to his feet and tugged Ana to hers. The dress pooled around her waist and he turned her to face away from him so he could release the few low buttons. Then the dress was on the floor and she was utterly naked before him. He knew her scars now, all of them. Thom wished he could have saved her from the pain of them, from the torment she'd gone through, but each mark on her skin was a story and was a part of her. 

She relaxed into him, sighed as he pressed his lips to the back of her shoulder. He nudged her toward the bed and climbed onto it, stretched out and waited, watching as he began to strip. When he stood naked beside the bed, Anahera reached out to him. He braced one knee on the bed and reached up to grab one of the pillows from beside her head. Ana's eyes slid shut as his mouth once again began to pepper kisses up her legs, her thighs, he pressed a kiss to the curls between her legs, her belly button, and between her breasts. 

“Lift your hips, love,” he said, and she obeyed, felt him slid the pillow under her lower back and then they both made a quiet sound of pleasure as his cock rubbed against her core. “I want to watch you come apart, again and again.” Thom rose up onto his knees, tugged her legs up, around his waist, and then he began teasing her with the head of his cock.

“Thom,” she hissed, her hands dropping down to rest on his thighs, her nails gently scratching. “Please,” she moaned quietly when he pressed against her opening. She tried to shift her hips but found the position left her unable to. 

One of his hands slid up her thigh, caught behind her knee, and pressed her leg back, spreading her, opening her wider to him. He wanted nothing more than to drive into her, bury himself in the wet heat of her body and spend himself deep inside while she moaned his name. But he was going to be selfish tonight. Slow, achingly slow, he began to press his cock into her. 

Her lips parted and she watched him with heavy-lidded eyes. Thom was torn between watching the way she stretched around his cock or the way she looked at him, with nothing but love and trust in her eyes. When he was finally seated inside of her all the way to the hilt, he let out a quiet groan and slid his hand along her other leg, drew it up and draped it over his shoulder. 

Thom leaned forward, his hand pressing into the mattress beside her shoulder, changing the angle, pushing himself even deeper. 

“Oh,” Ana's eyes were wide, mouth in a soft 'o' as she reached up to grip his sides. “Love,” it was a breathless sigh that turned into a moan as he began to rock his hips against hers. It didn't take long until drew another orgasm from her. The feel of her so tight and wet around him nearly pushed him over the edge right along with her, but he was far from finished with her. Thom leaned closer, his pubic bone brushing her clit with every rolling thrust while he claimed her mouth with a fierce kiss. The next orgasm had her thighs trembling and her fingers digging into his back.

He pulled out of her, despite her moaned protest and urged her to roll onto her stomach, keeping her thighs pressed together, he slid back in. It limited his movements, he couldn't push so deep, but the sounds she made were worth it. She turned her face, curled her body enough to press her face into his bicep, where her teeth sunk in when the next orgasm swept over her. “Thom,” she sobbed quietly, back arching. Thom didn't think he could last much longer. He tugged on her hips, pulling her up onto her knees, pushed back in and he let out a loud moan. Her inner walls still trembled from her previous orgasm and he bucked his hips, pushing deeper. 

Ana fisted her hands in the blankets, back arching, her hair a tangle of fire down her back. He drove into her with deep, rough strokes, slid his fingers into her hair, wrapped her long locks around his fist. She turned her head, looked at him from the corner of her eye. “Touch yourself for me, Ana,” he said with a groan, and then a heartbeat later felt her fingers between her legs. 

“Harder,” she moaned, and then her teeth sunk into her lower lip as he bucked harder against her. “Thom, love.” The hand on her hip squeezed tighter, and he felt the beginnings of her orgasm and this time he didn't resist. 

 

He blinked slowly, reality coming back to him in the form of Anahera's quiet breaths. He was stretched out over her, his softening cock still pressed deep inside of her, hand still fisted in her hair. He pressed a soft kiss on her shoulder, heard her hum softly. “You okay?” he asked, his voice a little rough.

She hummed again and when he lifted his head he could see the faint smile on her face. Reluctantly, he withdrew from her body, gathered her into his arms and tugged a blanket up over her back. Anahera's arms went around his waist and she buried her face in his chest. “I love you, Thom,” she murmured. 

Thom pressed his lips against her temple, held her tighter and closed his eyes. “I love you, Ana. More than you'll ever know.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thom confesses his sins.

Anahera stretched her arms up over her head and groaned quietly. Her body was pleasantly sore after the previous night. “Thom,” she murmured, rolled over, wanting to wrap herself around him, but sighed when the other side of the bed was empty. Pouting, she sat up. It wasn't out of the ordinary for him to wake before her, but after last night, she hadn't expected him to be up early. Tossing back the blankets she climbed out of bed. 

She quickly prepared for the day, hurried down the stairs and poked her head in to check on Issa, who was still sleeping soundly, before she hurried downstairs. After grabbing a cup of tea she headed to the stables, knowing she would find Thom there. People were rousing a bit later this morning, looking a little worn, and she smiled, happy that the party had been a success. Sometimes people needed a distraction. After Halamshiral and everything else, the people of Skyhold needed a reminder of what they were fighting for. 

Stopping in the doorway to the stables, Ana leaned against the door frame and just looked at Thom. He wore loose trousers and a simple tunic as he worked a piece of wood. She would never have imagined herself as happy. Her time with Kaaras wasn't joyful, she didn't love the man. But he had saved her, and their time together hadn't been unpleasant. She'd only ever first felt the tiniest whisper of hope for happiness when she'd been with Thom. 

Now, it was all-consuming. She was scared, afraid of what was to come, fear of what might happen. What if they couldn't stop Corypheus? What if someone was hurt? People had been hurt. People had died, but if someone in her inner circle was, she would never forgive herself. 

“Are you going to stand there and watch all morning?” Thom's gravel voice asked without looking up and she smiled. 

“Well,” she said, pushing away from the wall and sauntering toward him. “It is quite the view.” 

He gave her a look that said he didn't agree and she brushed a kiss over his lips. He took the mug from her hands, took a drink and then handed it back. “You woke up early,” she commented, walking around to sit on the stairs behind the table so she could still watch him.

“Couldn't sleep,” came his gruff reply.

“You could have woken me.” 

He paused, looked at her and the corner of his mouth turned up into a grin. “You were exhausted. I know, I tried.” 

Anahera felt herself blush, remembered his soft voice, light kisses and her grumbled 'five more minutes.' “Oh,” she said. 

It was a long while before either of them spoke again, Anahera sipping her tea, watching Thom's hands work over the wood. “I never told you what I was running from the day that I found you,” his voice was a quiet grumble, sounding more unsure than she'd ever heard him sound before.

“No,” she said, her eyes searching his face. “Thom, it doesn't matter to me, who you were before. The man that is standing in front of me, I love him, and the past, it doesn't matter.” 

“But it does,” he said, looking miserable. “Ana,” he put down the tool he was working with and turned away from her. 

Setting aside her mug, Anahera stood up and walked over to him, she slipped her arms around him from behind, rested her chin on his shoulder. He laid his hands over hers, which rested over his heart. “If it matters to you,” she said softly. “Tell me. But know that no matter what you say, it won't change how I feel about you.” 

Thom turned to her, cupped her jaw and stared into her eyes for a long time. “I really hope that is true,” he said softly and brushed a gentle kiss against her mouth before stepping away, putting a few feet between them. “My real name is Thom Rainier. I was a Captain in the Orlesian army.” He ran his hand over his face, rubbed his mouth and began pacing. Anahera just watched, waited. “It was all about money, I'm a worthless son of a bitch, Ana.” 

“Thom,” she murmured, hand reaching out to him, but he shook his head. 

“I ordered my men to kill a man. We ambushed his carriage. Only it wasn't just him. His family. Wife. Children.” Thom hit his knees, face in his hands. “They had a little girl, about Issa's age. I should have stopped them. I should have ordered my men to stop, but they would have known I lied-” He tipped his face up to look at her. “Can't take it back, wish I could. I'll never forgive myself for it. That doesn't make up for what I did. I know that. ”

It took Anahera several moments to realize why everything had suddenly gone blurry. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she shook her head, wiping at them. “I-” she opened her mouth, closed it. Her heart felt as if it had been ripped from her chest. She knew he'd killed, she'd killed. But children? 

“Not so easy to forgive, is it?” Thom asked, looking miserable. “I couldn't keep lying, not to you, not about this.”

Ana held up her hand, silencing him. She had said no matter what he told her, her feelings for him wouldn't change. Had they? The man in front of her, the man she loved, had killed children. Even if he hadn't wielded the blade, he had killed them. The same man who had allowed Issa to decorated his beard with flowers before they had set out to the training yard because she wanted him to teach her how to sword fight. 

“Inquisitor,” Cassandra's voice carried into the barn. “Are you-” she broke off, taking in the scene, Blackwall on his knees and Anahera crying. “Apologies, it-it can wait.” She took a step back, turned to go.

“No,” Anahera said, wiping at her cheeks again. “What did you need Cassandra?” She followed after the woman because, in that moment, she had no idea how she felt about anything. 

“Leliana received word that the Seekers are likely at Caer Oswin,” Cassandra seemed reluctant now, but Ana knew how desperate she was to find them. 

“Then we'll leave immediately.”

Cassandra glanced toward the barn, then back at Ana. “Is everything alright?” she asked, unsure. “You and Blackwall,” she trailed off.

“No,” Ana said with a shake of her head as they walked away from the barn. “Nothing is alright, but finding the Seekers is something I can do. If you'll fetch Dorian and Bull, I'll let Josie and Issa know.”

“Of course, Inquisitor,” Cassandra said inclining her head. “I do hope that whatever it is that is troubling you will mend itself.” 

Not likely, Ana thought as she jogged up the stairs and down the long hallway to Josephine's office. 

 

Their trip to Caer Oswin hadn't taken as long as Anahera had anticipated. It was scarcely a week and a half later when she sent word to Skyhold that they would return before nightfall. The sun was only just beginning to sink lower in the sky as they rode through the front gates. Issa was waiting for her, as usual, but Thom was not. Her heart ached. She loved Thom. Understood people could change, did change if they tried hard enough, and she had seen the absolute regret in his eyes. But still, the idea of him being behind the deaths of children.

Issa launched herself into Ana's arms as soon as she'd dismounted and she could see that the girl's eyes were red from crying. “My sweet girl, what's wrong?” 

“Papa Blackwall left,” she said, burying her face in Anahera's neck. 

“What?” Ana's gaze flew to Josephine's as she walked up. 

“It would appear that he left first thing this morning after we received your letter that you'd return today.” 

Leliana had joined the group as well and handed over a piece of paper. “This is one of my reports that went missing weeks ago, it was found with the few things he kept in the stable.” 

Ana took the paper, her eyes scanned over it. Mornay. Sentenced to death. For the murders of the Callier's. Shit. “I have to go.” She cupped Issa's cheek, kissed her forehead. “I'm so sorry, darling. I have to go.” She put her down and headed for the stables. She'd have to get a different horse, she couldn't take her own, she'd already ridden the beast hard enough that day. 

“Where are you going?” Cassandra asked, following her. “Does this have anything to do with what you and Blackwall fought about before we left?”

Ana was already grabbing her saddlebags to toss them over the back of another horse. “Yes, it has everything to do with that. I'll never forgive him for this. Never,” she muttered. “I have to get to Val Royeaux. It is probably too late, but I have to try.” 

Cassandra saddled another horse. “I'll ride with you if you've no objections.” 

Ana couldn't speak around the lump in her throat. Thom would get himself killed, wouldn't he? She just jerked her head in a nod and off they rode. 

She could see the crowd of people as they hurried into the heart of the city, all crowded around the hanging platform. One man knelt, weeping quietly, while onlookers sneered. Another man stood beside him, reading the list of charges. It only took a moment for her to spot him. Thom stood in the shadows, watching the scene unfold. “Sentenced to hang until dead,” the man reading from the elaborate scroll declared. 

“Stop,” Thom said, making his way up the stairs. 

“Thom!” Anahera yelled, still a little way from the platform. “Don't do this!” He looked at her and she saw the pain written across his features.

“Leave, Ana,” he said and looked at the men watching bewildered. “This man was only following orders.”

“Damn it!” Ana yelled as she pushed through the crowd. “Don't,” she said through gritted teeth. “Please.” 

Thom looked at her, eyes wet. “Too late, Love,” his voice was soft, barely a whisper. “My name is Thom Rainier. I am the one who gave the order to kill Callier.”

There were dramatic gasps from the crowd and Ana pressed her forehead against the wooden post and closed her eyes. Nausea swept over her she thought she might just pass out right there. They'd hang him. He would pay for his crimes with his death. Lifting her head up, she caught his eye just before he was led away by the guards. The crowd began to disperse, not getting the show they'd hoped for, at least, not yet.


	13. Chapter 13

Anahera stormed down the stairs to the cells. The last one on the left they had said. Halfway there she froze. Unable to take another step. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe, but the air stank of rot and her stomach roiled. Steadying herself, she forced her feet to move, to take those final steps. Thom looked up from where he sat on the stone floor of his cell. “Ana,” he breathed, getting to his feet. “Why did you come?”

Her hands curled into fists, and she thought that it was a good thing he was behind those bars because she wanted to hit him. “Why did you leave?” she bit back. “You left,” she ground out through gritted teeth.

“You left first,” he sighed, resting his hands on the bars.

She opened her mouth, snapped it shut and her warring emotions erupted into rage. “So, because I went to take care of something critical to the Inquisition, to a member of the Inquisition, that warranted you running away to get yourself killed?”

Thom shook his head warily. “I've run from my crimes long enough. No one else should have to die for my sins. I gave the order, then when it all came to light, I ran. Like the coward I am.” Then, as if he suddenly couldn't bear the weight of his sins any longer, he hit his knees, bowed his head, fingers still curled around the bars. “I'm not foolish enough to believe you'd forgive me for what I did. You shouldn't.”

“You never gave me the chance!” she yelled, pointing a finger at him. “You've had years to come to terms with what you did and you still haven't! You couldn't even give me a couple of weeks?!” He peered up at her and Ana cursed the tears that she felt roll down her cheeks. “What am I supposed to tell Issa when she asks me why Papa Blackwall isn't coming back?” She saw him wince and was only a little ashamed of herself for the low blow, but it didn't stop her from launching another one. “Do you want to know how I found out you'd left? She came running to me, crying because you were gone. You **are** a fucking _coward_ , Thom Rainier.” His own eyes wet with tears, but they didn't move her at all. “I could have forgiven you, I wanted to. But this-” she gestured to the bars between them and then shook her head and walked away. “I hope you're happy with your choices.”

Cassandra was standing at the top of the stairs as Anahera came up them. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked, wringing her hands.

Rubbing a hand against her temple they made their way out of the prison. “I need to write to Josie, or to Leliana. Both, maybe. It doesn't matter. I can't just leave him in there.”

Cassandra pursed her lips. “But this was his choice-” she broke off. “I know that Leliana has a few scouts here, we can get a message them right away.

It had been his choice, to sacrifice himself for his crimes. She should just leave him there, let him hang. But she couldn't. Letters were exchanged, plans were made, and Anahera and Cassandra started back to Skyhold. “Will you pass judgment on him once he is freed?”

Ana shook her head, exhausted. “No, I-” she let out a breath. “No. I knew Thom, before, before he took up the mantle of Blackwall. He saved my life. I was dying and for no reason, other than maybe kindness, maybe guilt, he dragged me out of a burning building and nursed me back to health, expecting nothing in return.” Anahera traced the scar on her throat. Then she found herself confessing everything to Cassandra. About the trysts at the bar, being captured and bound as a Saarebas, again, the baby. “The mission at the Temple of Sacred Ashes was going to be the last one for me.”

“What did you plan to do if you left your mercenary group?”

“I had a vial of foxite and redmoss.” Absently, she wondered what had happened to it.

Cassandra paled at the realization that Anahera had planned to end her life. “Divine intervention,” she said quietly.

“I don't believe in that,” Ana said, but she couldn't help but wonder, just a bit.

“You don't have to,” Cassandra said. “The Maker, or fate, or destiny, whatever you want to call it, there is a reason you were marked.”

Ana looked down at her hand. Just a few weeks ago she'd been so grateful for the mark, because of it, she'd found true friends, she'd found Issa and Thom. But now, with her heart aching so badly, she wasn't quite so grateful for _everything_.

 

“Thom Rainier was secured and brought to Skyhold before daybreak this morning. He's in the holding cells below, what would you like us to do?” Leliana asked.

Anahera shook her head. “No, no, let him out. I... I don't care. Maker, it doesn't matter. Let him go. If he wants to leave and-” her breath hitched. “It doesn't matter.” They met in the War Room, discussing the next steps, everyone carefully avoiding mentioning Blackwall. “We need to leave for Adamant, as soon as we possibly can,” Anahera said, staring at the map. “Hawke and Stroud are waiting for us, we need to stop Erimond.”

“We have the trebuchets in place,” Cullen told her. “So as soon as you are ready to leave, we can go.”

She felt guilty for leaving again so quickly, but Issa had become accustomed to it. She'd made friends with Morrigan's little boy, and the two spent a lot of time in the gardens. There was a knock on the door, and they all looked up to see one of Leliana's scouts standing there looking awkward. “My Lady, Inquisitor,” he glanced over his shoulder, then back at her. “Uhm-”

“What is it?” Leliana asked, but Anahera was already crossing toward him. She followed him down the passage and they stopped in the doorway to the main hall. Thom knelt on the dais in front of the chair, he was holding his hands behind his back, had his head bowed.

“How long has he been like that?” she asked. “I said I wasn't going to judge him,” she snapped, eyes jerking between her advisors and the scout.

“For the better part of an hour, my lady. He just walked in and knelt down there, hasn't moved.”

Ana stared at him, his weight shifted slightly. Yes, she imagined the stone would be uncomfortable. “We'll leave for Adamant in the morning,” she said and then walked through the door, past the dais and to the door to her quarters. She didn't glance back, refused to acknowledge Thom, but it didn't stop the tears that burned her eyes as she climbed the stairs.

 

It had been hours. Thom still knelt there, becoming quite the spectacle. “My lady, if you would just-” Josephine tried to coerce her.

“No,” she bit out. “I said I will not judge him.” They sat down for supper, and she could barely force herself to eat. Her stomach threatened to revolt at the thought.

“MamaAna?” Issa sat beside her, pushing her own food around on her plate.

“Hm?” Ana looked down at the girl, then reached over to smooth her tangle of curls away from her face. “What is it?”

“You're mad at Papa Blackwall.”

Anahera sighed, pushed her plate away and turned on the bench to properly meet Issa's gaze. “I am,” she said quietly.

“He's still sitting in front of the chair, you're supposed to judge him,” she said and Ana shook her head.

“No, I won't. I can't. This isn't something I can-” Tears had filled Issa's eyes and Ana reached out to cup her cheeks. “Love, what's wrong? Talk to me.”

“Do I have to be mad at him too?” she sniffled, jaw trembling.

She was dirt. The lowest of the low, she'd made the girl she loved, thought of as her own, cry. “No,” Ana said quickly. “No, of course not,” she told her, pulling her into a hug. “Oh, my sweet girl. I'm so sorry. You don't have to be mad at him, just because I am. You need to do what makes you happy. I know you love him, and that's fine. I love him too, but sometimes, we get mad at the people we love. Sometimes, things just change.” Anahera didn't know what would happen. Was afraid to dwell on it all. How long until Thom gave up and left again? How much did he really care about her? About Issa? Would he even care- she shook the thought from her head, pressed a kiss to Issa's forehead.

“You're leaving in the morning again, aren't you?” Issa asked after a while, face pressed into the crook of Ana's neck.

“Yes,” Ana rubbed her hand over Issa's back. “I'm sorry, darling, I have to. The Wardens are in trouble. I have to try and help.”

Issa pulled out the carved griffon that Thom had made her when he'd first arrived at Haven, that Issa always wore on a leather cord. “Take this, please,” she said, pulling it over her head. “It'll keep you safe.”

“Sweet girl, that's yours,” Anahera said, pushing it back toward her.

“I know, but I want you to take it when you go away.”

Anahera's heart clenched tight in her chest and she felt tears burn the backs of her eyes. “Alright, my sweet girl. I'll wear it.” Ana had to untie the knot in the leather and retie it after wrapping it around her neck since there was no way it would fit over her horns. The cord fit close and the pendant rested in the hollow of her throat. “Thank you,” she said and pressed a kiss to Issa's cheek.

Deciding to retire early, using the excuse that she needed to pack, Anahera escaped up to her room. It was true, she did need to pack, but she couldn't stand the looks she was getting or Thom for that matter. Her eyes caught on the piece of paper sitting on her bedside table. She ignored it, shoved more things into her pack, but then she gave up, grabbed the piece of paper and sunk down on the edge of the bed to read it again.

 

> _Mockingbird, mockingbird, quiet and still, what do you see from the top of that hill? Can you see up? Can you see down?_
> 
> _Heard Cole and Issa singing that the other day. That's what the children were singing when we ambushed them. I can't forgive myself, Anahera. I can't begin to ask you to. You and Issa have made me feel human again. I never pictured myself with a family, but when I look at the two of you-it would have been nice._
> 
> _One of my men has been sentenced to death. I cannot allow another man to die for my sins. I've run from the truth for far too long. I am sorry to leave it this way, to leave you. I hope that you believe it when I tell you that I love you._
> 
> _Thom_

 

Ana's fingers slid up to rest on the Griffin pendant at her throat. She loved him, but it all hurt. Folding the paper, she tucked it into the drawer at her bedside table and went back to packing, and silently hoped that Thom didn't shun Issa's love and forgiveness. If he did, she thought she might kill him herself.  
  


Thom's entire body ached painfully from kneeling on the stone dais. He'd been released from the cell and dismissed. Told that the Inquisitor would not be judging him and what he did next was his own choice. He didn't understand. She'd gotten him out of prison, which had to have cost the Inquisition something. Then nothing. So he went and he waited. It had been early afternoon, the sun low in the sky. Now, the sun had set and he could hear the whispers. The people hated him, and he didn't blame them. He hated himself.

But the only opinion he truly cared about, was Anahera and Issa's. He had seen Anahera retire to her quarters and felt his shoulders sag. He didn't know how to fix the mess he'd made. She'd said she wouldn't forgive him for leaving. But he needed to know if she even wanted him to stay. The solid wooden door being shut firmly should have been answer enough.

A quiet rustle of fabric at his side caught his attention, he turned his head just enough to see Issa settling down to sit on the step he knelt on. “Isn't it past your bedtime?” he asked gruffly.

“Why did you leave?” she asked, hands in her lap. “You promised me that we were in this together,” he could hear the tears in her voice.

With a grunt, Thom shifted, sat down heavily on the step beside her and rubbed his knees. “I've done things, Issa, that I'm not proud of. I'm-” a murderer, a monster, a traitor. “I'm not a good man.”

“But you're my Papa,” she said and he buried his face in his hands. She'd only started calling him that in the last few weeks before this whole mess. Papa Blackwall. “MamaAna is mad at you, but she said I didn't have to be mad at you if I didn't want to be.” Issa tipped her face up to look at Thom and he swallowed hard.

“You can be mad at me,” he told her. “You're right, I broke promises I made to you, and to Ana.”

Issa pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “But I don't wanna be.” She was silent for a few minutes. “Are you going to leave again?”

“That all depends on Anahera, and you. I don't-” his voice cracked and he held a hand out, palm up to Issa. “I don't want to, Issa. I love you, and your MamaAna. But I don't know how to make up for what I've done.”

She looked at his hand, then slipped hers into his, then she leaned into him, rested her cheek against his arm. “You could pick her flowers?”

Thom chuckled low, despite himself and tugged Issa into his arms to hug her. “Somehow, I don't think it'll be that easy.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want some more angst?

“Well, this looks nothing like the Maker's bosom,” Hawke said as Anahera shoved to her feet.

_Shit_ , she thought. _Shit, shit, shit._ She pressed her hand to her stomach as she looked around. They were in the Fade. Actually, physically, in the Fade. “We have to find a way out of here.”

Varric, Dorian, and Cassandra were all in agreement, and they began to make their journey to where they hoped they'd be able to get through and back to the real world.

“ _Do you really believe you'll be able to protect this child?”_ Anahera nearly tripped over her own feet at the echoing words. She frantically looked to her companions, all who looked confused. Except for Cassandra. She met Ana's gaze. _“You failed to keep the first one safe. This one will die the same way.”_

Nausea swept over her. “It is a Fear demon,” Cassandra said, moving to flank Ana. Then, in a lower voice. “It will taunt you with what you fear the most.”

It was true. Anahera was terrified, it was a constant niggling thought in the back of her mind since she'd had a healer confirm her suspicions. She had begun to wonder after the Winter Palace but had brushed it off. But upon returning from Val Royeaux, she knew she couldn't deny it any longer.

“ _Your Inquisitor is a fraud, Cassandra. Yet more evidence there is no Maker, that all your "faith” has been for naught.”_

"Die in the Void, demon,” Cassandra snarled.

They made their way through the Fade, guided by Divine Justinia, or, whatever the hell it was supposed to be. Anahera wasn't sure, and she didn't care. It was helping and that was all that mattered in that moment.

“ _Once again, Hawke is in danger because of you, Varric. You found the red lyrium. You brought Hawke here…”_

“Just keep talking, Smiley.”

“ _Do you think it mattered, Hawke? Do you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn’t even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a god? Fenris is going to die, just like your family, and everyone you ever cared about.”_

“Well, that’s going to grow tiresome quickly.”

The small graveyard nearly did Anahera in. She stared at the headstones, then saw her own. Failure. It was so simple a word. She would fail. She'd already had. The three small headstones beside her own made it hard to breathe. Her hand splayed over her belly as if she could somehow keep it safe that way.

A hand caught her elbow, gave her a gentle tug. “Best not to dwell on these things, that's what it wants,” Dorian told her.

“ _Greetings, Dorian…it is Dorian, isn’t it? For a moment, I mistook you for your father.”_

“Rather uncalled for,” he sniffed and Anahera shook herself, tried to forget the graveyard as they continued.

They discovered the truth about the Divine's death, the mark on her hand and the Wardens.

“ _Warden Stroud. How must it feel to devote your whole life to the wardens, only to watch them fall? Or worse, to know that you were responsible for their destruction? When the next Blight comes, will they curse your name?”_

“With the Maker’s blessing, we will end this wretched beast.”

Anahera pushed forward. “We're almost there,” she said, trying to be calm, trying to be brave. She wasn't sure she was doing a very good job of it.

“ _He'll leave you. Again. Just like he always does.”_

“Fuck you,” she snarled, heard it cackle.

Finally, they reached the end, the rift was right there, but so was the fear demon. Cassandra stayed close, as did Varric, Dorian was out of the thick of it, but she felt each and every one of his protective barriers he threw up around her, they crackled like the air before a lightning storm over skin.

 

Anahera was exhausted by the time she trudged up the stairs to her quarters. Issa was already tucked in, sound asleep, and that was all Ana wanted. Sleep. Maybe she'd have a good cry first. Adamant had been... brutal. Her fingers brushed against her still flat stomach. She knew that the fear demon was only voicing her own fears. What terrified her the most. Which made it all that much worse. Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian now knew but had sworn on pain of death they wouldn't say a word.

There was a low fire burning in the fireplace and Ana frowned, wondering who had lit it, then in the shadows, she saw Thom. He was sitting at the foot of the bed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together. He didn't move as she stepped into the room. Honestly, she was too tired to even care. She sat on the couch to unlace her boots and yank them off along with her socks.

“You were _in_  the Fade,” Thom's voice was low, but it held a dangerous tone. She looked up and found him staring at her.

“Yeah,” she said, standing up. “And our good friend Stroud is probably dead because he stayed behind to save our asses from a giant demon.” She began working the buttons of her shirt, as she walked past the bed. “Can whatever _this_ is wait until morning? I'm exhausted.” Ana tossed her shirt into the hamper and started working on her breeches.

“You've a new scar,” Thom said and she froze.

_Shit_. She had more than just the one new scar. There were a few, along with some lingering bruises. Despite her friends' efforts, she had taken a few blows, though probably not nearly as many as she would have had they not been so protective. But no, she thought. He didn't get to be angry about anything. He'd left. He'd leave again. “Yep,” she finally said, kicked her pants into the hamper and turned to the bed. He was standing now, watching her every move.

“You're wearing Issa's necklace.”

Her hand went up to the pendant. “She wanted me to wear it for good luck. Seems it doesn't work for me.” She would have yanked it off, thrown it at his head, but the tiny knot would have been an immense effort to untie and she didn't have the energy. Anahera crossed to the bed, tugged down the blankets and climbed under them before yanking them up over her head.

Thom stared at the lump under the blankets. He had read the reports about what had happened at Adamant, was livid that she'd gone without him, that she'd fallen into the Fade and he hadn't been there. Again. And it was all his own fault. He'd hurt her and it was a hurt he wasn't sure he could fix. He walked over to the dresser where the salve he rubbed into her skin every night sat.

Crossing back to the bed, he waited a moment. Heard her quiet sniffle. He closed his eyes, those tears were his doing. He grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked.

“Hey!” she yelled, sitting up part way.

“On your stomach,” he grumbled and watched the indignant rage play over her face before she saw the tin he held in his hand. Her jaw clenched, but then finally she rolled onto her stomach, her hands tucked under her chin. Thom climbed up, straddling her thighs, keeping his weight off her. He opened the tin, scooped out some of the salve and began to gently massage it into her back.

Her muscles were tense, her entire body stiff beneath him. Thom kneaded her shoulders, ran his thumbs along her spine, took extra care with her new scars. Slowly her body began to relax, sagging into the mattress. Hearing her quiet snore had him looking up. Her cheek was wet with tears and Thom wasn't sure he'd ever hated himself more. He finished the job, carefully climbed off the bed and pulled the lightweight blanket over her. He banked the fire and then silently left her room. He stopped at Issa's, stuck his head in to check on her, found her sleeping just as he'd left her hours earlier, then went down to his own quarters that he'd been given upon his return to Skyhold.

Anahera avoided Thom the next day, and it shouldn't have surprised her when he arrived in her quarters after she'd gone to bed. This time he hadn't said a word, he'd just picked up the tin of ointment, and she'd tossed herself onto the bed, allowed his hands to work over her skin. She had closed her eyes, felt herself dozing off. Thom finished, and silently as he'd come, left.

He came the next night and the next. A new routine. Anahera was taken back to when he'd first joined the Inquisition, he'd wring pleasure from her and leave. Now, now he was simply taking care of her, tending her wounds. But he'd leave. She knew he would, eventually. Wouldn't he? When she'd told him about the baby she'd lost all those years ago, he hadn't reacted. He wouldn't care about this one either, would he?

She knew they had to go out to the Dales. Important missions, things that needed to be done. But she was utterly terrified. Cassandra had seen that new armor was made for her, a little sturdier, something with a bit more substance around her torso.

They were getting ready to leave, just before sunrise, Dorian, Cassandra and the Iron Bull, whom Anahera had tentatively reached, if not friendship, an accord. He was a good fighter, had been loyal to his men, and seemingly, to the Inquisition. Thom showed up, and without a word, mounted his horse. An awkwardness hung in the air, they all looked to Anahera. She sighed, rolled her eyes and shrugged before riding out.

 

The giant took them by surprise. It seemed to come out of nowhere and left them all scrabbling. They needed to retreat, but it had them cornered. A solid wall of rock to one side, a straight drop into oblivion at their backs. “Ana,” Thom called to her. They were all exhausted, strength wearing thin. “Make run for it.” He jerked his head and she saw what he intended to do, knew it would work, but at what cost? He would be hurt, maybe killed.

“Don't you dare!” she yelled at him. The giant swung around and she recoiled. Shit. Shit. She heard the fearful calls of her companions. Before she could do anything, the giant had scooped her up, grip crushing. The baby. It was all she could think of.

The others were yelling, attacking, but she knew they wouldn't be able to stop this thing from killing her. Magic she hadn't used in years crackled over her skin. Too afraid of the Ben-Hassrath. But to keep her child safe, she would do anything. Fire exploded from her fingertips. The thing screamed and she was falling. Anahera tried to land right, to roll, but the thing dropped her straight down and pain shot up from her ankles all the way through her body.

Ana doubled over, wrapped her arms around her middle, terrified to move. “No,” she whispered. “No, please.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Ana, Ana, are you hurt?” Thom was there, but she said nothing, just kept hoping, praying, weeping. Then Dorian was there, and she felt the magic in his hands when they touched her low on her back. A hand slid into hers, squeezed. Cassandra.

“We need to get you back to camp. Can you move?”

“No,” it was a sob. Anahera didn't know if she could, was too afraid to try.

“Go do something useful and get help,” Cassandra sneered and Ana knew it was directed at Thom.

There was a moment of tense silence and then Ana felt lips against the back of her head. “Hold on, love.” Then he was gone.

Thom was pacing. Anahera had been rushed back to camp and vanished into a tent with the healer and Cassandra. Hours passed. How bad were her injuries? Maker's Balls, he was terrified. It was a long time before the healer left. Even longer before Cassandra did. With the command that they were going back to Skyhold in the morning. He tried to ask her how Ana was doing and received only a brusque “she'll live” in response.

He waited until the camp went quiet for the night. Until Cassandra retired to her own tent. Only then did he approach Ana's. Silently he slipped in. She was curled up on her side, knees drawn up to her chest, she was snoring quietly in the way she did after she'd been crying. Looking over her, she looked fine, bruised, one wrist wrapped up. But whatever happened, had to be very bad. “Maker, Ana,” he breathed and crossed to the bedside.

Kneeling down he closed his eyes and listened to her breathe. _Don't die. Don't leave me. I love you. Hate me until the end of time, just don't die._

 


	15. Chapter 15

Their progress was slow as they made their way back to Skyhold. Silence reigned over the small group. Thom could handle them ignoring him, but the subtle looks shared between Ana, Dorian and Cassandra were going to be his undoing. They hadn't told him something, and he was terrified it was about Anahera's injuries. They stopped early, set up camp and Thom stomped away to gather wood.

He knew he fucked up and it seemed that he just kept doing it. Things had been good, for a time, if he could have just left it alone, pretended a little longer. But he couldn't. Wouldn't allow anyone else to suffer for his misdeeds. For that, he'd suffer for the rest of his miserable life. Thom didn't know what he could do, if anything, to get Ana to ever forgive him.

Quiet voices as he approached the camp, arms full of wood. “When are you going to tell him, darling?” Dorian asked, voice quiet.

“He'll just leave again. I can't- he didn't care before. Why would he care now?” Ana's voice, quiet, angry.

“That situation was entirely different, and if you expect him to leave, wouldn't it be better if he did that now, rather than later?”

Thom took a step back, away from the camp. She expected him to leave again? That was why she wouldn't tell him what was wrong. His brow furrowed. Hadn't cared before? About what? He walked around and approached the camp from a different angle, making noise as he came.

Ana and Dorian sat by the fire, her on the ground, cheek resting against Dorian's thigh as he sat on a fallen log. Her eyes were closed and she looked exhausted. He wondered how much sleep she'd actually been getting. Thom brought the wood to the fire, knelt down to tend to the fire. Few words were spoken as they ate. Ana crawled into her tent early and Thom stared after her. They had to talk and soon.

“How do I fix it?” he found himself asking Dorian, the man he'd never truly gotten along with. Anahera trusted him though and in truth, Dorian had been at her side through damn near everything.

“Fix what?” Dorian asked, brows raising.

Thom inclined his head toward Ana's tent. “I don't expect it to be easy, but-” he loved her. Maker, he loved her more than anything in the world, and he'd give anything to make her happy. “How do I make her smile again?” If she never forgave him, fine. But he wanted, no, he _needed_ , to see her happy again. “Even if it means I'm not the one that makes her smile.”

“You'd give her up? Leave?”

Thom ran his hand over his mouth. He couldn't. He had to be there, had to keep her safe. He thought of that monster grabbing her, it could have killed her, and he hadn't been the one to save her. He had wanted to keep her safe, had tried, but she wouldn't have it. “No,” he said. Selfish. Even if she wanted it, he couldn't leave. He'd made a vow to Issa, one he wouldn't break again. “But if Ana-” he swallowed. “If Ana doesn't want me, I'd accept that. If she wants someone else,” the words hurt to say. But he meant them.

Dorian snorted quietly, “well, that wouldn't be awkward, having her ex-lover running around while she's trying to start something new?”

“Never mind,” Thom grumbled. “Don't know why I bothered asking you.” He shoved to his feet, knew Cassandra would be even less help if anything she'd offer to loan him her sword so he could fall on it.

 

Anahera lay, curled up on her side, in her tent, blankets were drawn tight around herself, her hand splayed over her belly. She knew that it was a terrible time for her to be pregnant, there was still so much for her to do for the Inquisition. So many more rifts. Corypheus. But she didn't regret it, couldn't regret it. Her only regret was Thom.

She had to tell him. He had to know she was very much pregnant with his child. But what if he left? Just the very thought of it made her heart hurt. He'd figure out eventually. Dorian had been right, it would be better if it all came out sooner, rather than later. But before Skyhold? What would she tell Issa if he decided to leave? What if he didn't want the child? Ana didn't care, she'd do just fine on her own, she had dear friends, they would stand beside her, as Cassandra already had.

There was a quiet sound, canvas rubbing together, a cool wind, then it was gone. Ana clenched her eyes shut, imagining that it was Cassandra come to check on her. But then he spoke. “Ana,” Thom's voice was hardly even a whisper. She froze, couldn't breathe, just lay there, waiting. “I-” he started, then she heard the rasp of his hand rubbing over his beard. “I know you're asleep, but, maybe if I can get this out while you're sleeping I'll have better luck when you're awake. I love you.” A quiet rustle of fabric.

“I know that I don't deserve you, never have. I told you that-” he broke off, sighed. “I don't know what to do to fix things if I even can fix things. You're... you're everything. You and Issa. I love her and I know I really don't deserve her love in return. You made me want to be a better man. That is all I can do.” Fingers, barely-there, skimmed along her ear. “Never been so scared as I was when that giant picked you up-” he coughed quietly. “Maker's balls,” he grumbled, and then she heard the canvas shift and she knew she was alone.

 

“Bed rest,” the healer insisted upon their return to Skyhold, practically pushing Anahera on to the bed. She was surprised by the strength in the stout woman. “The babe is fine, but I don't want you out of that bed for at least a week.”

“I have an Inquisition to lead!” Ana yelled. So much to do, if she didn't stop Corypheus nothing mattered. They were all as good as dead.

“Do you want this baby?” The healer's eyes were deadly serious.

Ana immediately obeyed the woman, scooted back on the bed, leaned against the pillows. “Yes,” she whispered, wrapped her arms around her stomach. “Yes.”

“Then do as I say,” she huffed. “Drink your tea,” she said pointing to the mug on a tray on the bedside table. “And take a nap.”

It was sometime later when Anahera felt the bed shift, turned her face to see Issa carefully laying down beside her, her eyes went a little wide when she saw Ana looking at her. “You're supposed to be sleeping,” she whispered.

Ana hummed softly and touched Issa's cheek. “Hey my sweet girl, I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Josie said you got hurt, had to rest, so I should be a good girl and let you sleep.” Issa rested her head on the pillow beside Ana's “You're going to be okay, right?” her voice wavered.

Anahera slid her arm around Issa, drew her closer. “Yes, my sweet girl, I'm going to be fine.” Issa shifted closer, tucking her head under Ana's chin and sighed.

  
The days dragged on. Anahera slept more than she ever had before. Drank the tea that the healer had sent up, and traded fairy tales back and forth with Issa. Ana grew more and more restless. When the healer finally allowed her to get out of bed, with orders that she rest often and definitely not walk into any battles, Ana eagerly scrambled out of bed and dressed.

She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, how she would handle these new orders. Her fingers skimmed over her belly. She’d have to figure out something. Anahera stopped by Issa’s room and wasn’t surprised that the little girl wasn’t there. “Have you seen Issa?” she asked Varric in the main hall.

“Hero- uh…” Varric broke off rubbing the back of his neck. “He took her out hunting, I think.”

Anahera felt her heart clench in her chest, so glad that Thom hadn’t turned his back on Issa. It meant something, didn’t it? “Thank you,” she said and continued out of the castle. Cassandra was sitting on a stool, reading and Ana couldn’t help but smile a little. She’d been surprised to find out that Cassandra was truly a romantic at heart.

“Ah, how are you feeling?” Cassandra asked, standing up as Ana approached. “Here, sit,” she gestured to the stool.

Ana let out a soft laugh and shook her head. “No, absolutely not. I’ve been laying down for over a week, I plan to stand as long as I possibly can.” Cassandra scowled.

“You should be resting.”

“I’ve been resting. I’m… What am I supposed to do? I can’t go out and fight, but there is so much I have left to do.” She curled her left hand into a fist. More rifts. Corypheus was still out there.

“You will stay here,” Cassandra told her. “We will go out and do the work you dictate.”

Ana shook her head. “I don’t want to be a dictator. What exactly will you do when you come across the rifts? I have to go out there,” she bowed her head and pressed her hand to her stomach.

“You’ll wear heavy armor then.”

Anahera laughed again. “I’ll do everything I can to protect this child, Cass. But I have to protect the world they are coming in to as well.”

“You’re not alone,” Cassandra said with a hand on her shoulder.

“I know, and I’m grateful.”

The sound of the gate raising caught her attention and she turned as Thom walked in, holding the reigns of the horse that Issa sat atop. Hunting, huh? She thought. Thom had his sword, but she knew he didn’t use it to hunt and Issa’s hair was braided with tiny flowers and she couldn’t help but smile at the flowers in Thom’s hair as well. Despite everything, she adored the man, yet the fear of him leaving her held on strong.

The sooner, the better, she thought and followed them to the barn.

 

Thom felt his cheeks crease with a grin at Issa’s joy. He’d simply wanted to get out of the castle walls for a few hours. He wasn’t exactly welcome by many at Skyhold these days and even more were just angry with him. So when Issa had shown up in the barn early that morning, bored and restless, he’d suggested they go hunting. Surprisingly, she’d jumped at the chance. He was no good with a bow and arrow, but he did know a thing or two about traps, so they had gone out and set up a handful of them. Neither had been ready to return yet, so he’d found a small grove of trees, and Issa had run and danced and picked flowers.

“Mamae!” Issa shouted happily and Thom felt every hair on his body stand straight up. She’d been confined to bed since they had returned to Skyhold and he had visited a handful of times, late in the night when he knew she would be sleeping, just to see her, to reassure himself that she was alive, breathing, safe.

Thom turned as Ana approached, Issa still perched on the horse. “My lady,” he said, inclining his head. Her expression was unreadable. Issa kicked him in the shoulder and he grunted quietly, looking up at the girl, all he saw was the bouquet of flowers they had gathered and wound together with a piece of twine because Issa had insisted that flowers would help Ana to feel better.

“Papa picked you flowers,” Issa said, with a big toothy grin.

“Did he?” Ana asked, and he heard the disbelief in her voice. He took the bundle from Issa and held it out to Anahera. She took it, but her expression still remained void of emotion. “Issa, go see Maribel.”

“But-”

“Now.”

Thom gulped silently, then straightened his spine, ready for Ana to lay into him after he helped Issa down from the horse. Issa tugged him down and kissed his cheek before doing the same to Ana, and then she was gone. Anahera was silent as she stared at him, and it made the dread even worse. “Are you alright?” he croaked, then coughed. “Should you still be resting? I’m sorry-” he broke off, cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry I took Issa out without checking with you first. I shouldn’t have. But I promise, I never let her out of my sight.”

“You have every right to take her out if you please,” she said, voice low, and Maker he’d missed that sound.

“No,” Thom said with a shake of his head. “I don’t. You, for all intents and purposes, are her Mamae.”

“And you are her Papa. She is as much your daughter as she is mine, Thom.”

Daughter.

The word caught him off guard and left him feeling a little dazed. Sure, Issa had called him papa for several months now, and he adored the girl. But it never occurred to him to call her his daughter. _Daughter_. “You’d let me…?”

Ana shook her head. “That was Issa’s choice, not mine.”

_Right_. Now that she was there, in front of him, he needed to ask her what she wanted from him. If she wanted him to stay or to leave. Leaving the two of them might very well kill him, or at least take away the only thing he had worth living for, but if Anahera wanted him gone.

She drew in a deep breath. “But this one is yours.”

Thom’s brow furrowed, confusion settling in as he watched her spread a hand over her stomach. “You don’t need to involve yourself if you don’t want to. If you are going to leave, I would rather you did it soon.”

His mind was still playing catch up. His? His choice? His gaze darted between her hand and her eyes and back again. His? “You’re-” he broke off, mind reeling. Thom blinked a few times, his vision going blurry, and for some reason he was on his knees, staring up at Ana. “Do you want me to leave?” he managed to get the question out.

Anahera looked away, both of her arms curling around her middle, protecting her belly. Her child. His child. “No,” she said simply before clenching her jaw. “But I don’t want you here if you don’t want to be here.” Then she walked away.

He’d been terrified when the giant had scooped her up in its gigantic hand, and that was without the knowledge that she was pregnant with his babe. She’d fallen so far. But they were both fine? _Maker_. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face.


End file.
